


Questions and Answers

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Nightwish, Poison (US Band)
Genre: family tree, geneology, hair metal, symphonic metal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: Poison bassist RobBobbyDall grew up with more questions about his earliest Years than he didn't. Were his parents ever married, had his father ever loved him or his older siblings? It was questions like that, which he didn't have answers for, that oft kept him up at Night.Reagan Logan'd many of the same questions, which was what finally led to her doing one of thoseAncestry DNAkits. Much to her surprise, she'd a couple folks in her family Tree that she never woulda expected–one of whom, she happened to grow up on the Music of.After meeting his unexpected niece, Rob gets more answers than he ever thought he'd get from a simple DNA test. However, with those answers comes a bit of strife–and a decision he never thought he'd have to make. What'll that decision be, and how will they both cope with their long-sought answers?





	1. One

_F_ _ebruary, 2021_

_Indialantic, Florida_

Fifty-eight-Year-old Rob _Bobby_ Dall couldn’t help the Anxiety that made his hands quite literally shake like leaves after checking his mail. Ever since he was a lil boy old enough to pay attention to the World around him, he’d questioned a lotta things. The biggest thing he’d questioned–why’d his father leave when he was too young to remember him, and why hadn’t he come back? After all, it wasn’t just himself that the man’d left–he’d left behind his mother, but more importantly, his older brother and sister.

Having lost his Patience with his mother not telling whatever she _did_ know, now that she’d been dead and gone for the last few Years, he’d finally broken down. Money spent on one of those _Ancestry DNA_ kits was money well spent, if it gave him the answers he sought. And if not actual answers, then leads that he could track down during his spare Time–like right now.

A big part of him really didn’t wanna open the envelope he was holding, which’d been hidden between pieces of junk mail. Still, the aging bassist knew that _not_ opening it’d make his money a waste, and he wasn’t about to go to his grave knowing that. Besides, as he’d already told himself earlier, doing this test was supposed to give him answers he’d wanted all his Life. Even hints and leadsta follow’d be better than not knowing at all, and that made him take a deep breath.

Unfolding the paperwork he pulled out, Rob reached up with his free hand to readjust his glasses so he could read it clearly. His eyes widened in surprise as he read the results of his DNA kit, which unveiled something surprising right off the bat. While his mother’d sworn he was a Kuykendall till the Day she died, what was printed on this paperwork told him otherwise. It claimed that he was part of a family that originated in the South, but various branches came from various States. From what he was reading, they were Primarily from Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee, and died in just as many places.

“Jesus, I’m glad I linked the account for this with that family Tree,” he muttered as he massaged a temple.

“Got your results back, Dad?”

Looking up, the bassist saw his kids–who still lived with him, despite being grown–had just walked in from work. “Yeah, I did–and just got a helluva surprise right on the first page.”

“What’s it say?” his son, Zak, queried curiously.

“That my dad’s never been who I _thought_ he was, based on what lil Mama’d tell me before she died,” Rob answered on a sigh.

“Well, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, Daddy.” His daughter, Zoe, wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. “If nothing else, at least you’ve _that_ question answered now.”

“True enough, which was why I even broke down and got that kit,” he reminded her. “I’m just not sure whether to be pissed at Mama or what.”

“I say we check out the names that’re listed here on Ancestry’s site,” his son told him. “Maybe we’ll link up with one of them and actually be able to get in touch.”

“And that could give ya even more answers, whether they’re the ones ya want or not,” his daughter agreed.

“If I didn’t know you’d keep nagging till I did it, I’d say not till later,” the bassist chuckled. “But no Time like the present since the _Stadium Tour_ got postponed till this Summer, and I’ve nothing better to do when I’m not needed at the restaurant.”

Grabbing his laptop from his bedroom, Rob was quick to settle at the table in his breakfast nook next to one of the back doors. Part of him was still nervous as his kids settled on either side of him, but he was grateful for their support. Even if it stemmed from a weird Curiosity that bordered on morbid, they were still with him as he did something that was incredibly hard for him.

After putting in himself and said kidsta start off his family Tree, he moved on to putting in his parents. He’d known that the man his mother was still married to upon her Death wasn’t his Natural father–he, nor his older siblings looked anything like the man. But he didn’t have a clue what the man who _was_ supposedly his dad looked like, and whether he’d have inherited any of the man’s traits. What if this test turned out to be dead wrong, and his sample’d gotten mixed up with that of somebody else by accident, but he hadn’t gotten the corrected results?

The bassist wasn’t expecting a leaf to pop up in the upper right-hand corner of the spot where he’d added his supposed dad’s name and Birth date since he didn’t have anything else. Apparently able to see when that leaf popped up, Zak told him that was his first hint and told him to click on it. He wasn’t too sure what to expect as something popped up, his son telling him to click on the _profile_ link embedded in it, but they certainly weren’t expecting a Death date to be immediately underneath the Birth date provided. In fact, he felt his heart sink as he waited for the next page to load, something deep inside hoping that wasn’t true.

None of them were expecting to be greeted by a profile picture of a man who looked eerily similar to him, given the odd angle he seemed to be looking in. Clicking on the _Gallery_ tab, they certainly weren’t expecting to see a man far younger in an obvious military uniform. What he considered the biggest surprise, though, was that his supposed father was pictured next to a woman who appeared about the same age, two teenagers standing behind them, in the final photo.

“Holy shit–this guy looks like he could _definitely_ be related to ya, Dad,” his son breathed.

_“Woulda_ been, more like,” Rob sighed. “Look at the dates listed under the _Facts_ tab again.”

Both his kids looked closer, then winced sympathetically.

“He’s been dead for six Years, if this is right,” Zoe mused, looking up at him. “I kinda wonder if that’s true, and if it is, what he died from.”

“I dunno, and I’m not too sure I wanna,” he admitted, starting to sound choked up.

“Dad, don’tcha dare give up after spending that money on this kit.” His son shot him a hard look. “Just ’cuz you’ll never get to meet your dad for yourself, if those results’re right, doesn’t mean there’s not _other_ family members ya _could_ meet.”

“Seriously, ’cuz look.” His daughter pointed to the right-hand margin. “According to whoever made this Tree that includes him, he’d a wife and two kids–a son and a daughter.”

“Who says none of them–or even _their_ kids–wouldn’t wanna meetcha?” Zak queried. “Besides, they might be able to answer questions like what’d he die from.”

“I guess it’s worth a shot,” Rob acquiesced.

Deciding to start with his supposed sister, he clicked on the second link listed in that _Spouse and Children_ section. Her name was apparently Katana Jeanette, which he found to be a bit of an odd name for someone born in the early-seventies. But that was quickly back-burnered when he glanced at the same section once this new page loaded and saw not one, but two spouses listed. Not only that, but his supposed sister’d a child with each of her supposed spouses–which meant he’d at least a single niece and nephew he’d never known about, if this was right.

The bassist couldn’t explain why, but he felt the sudden urge to click on the link that’d lead to his supposed niece’s profile. Zak and Zoe simply watched as they waited for this third page to load, all three of them gasping softly once it did. She was somehow even more beautiful than her mother coulda Dreamt of being, but maybe that was ’cuz she appeared twenty-something.

However, their attention was quickly caught by what appeared to be a link to this young woman’s Ancestry profile. They all thought it was a long shot, but still agreed that clicking on that link couldn’t possibly hurt anything. But seeing what was clearly a link to this young woman’s Instagram profile was a bit more of a surprise than anything else they’d found out thus far. Even still, Rob couldn’t help his Curiosity and decided to just take a chance with clicking even _that_ link and finding out where it led him. He was too curious about his potential family _not_ to follow those hints that he was already getting, even if a part of him felt dead and gone now.

Even his kids couldn’t help a short bout of laughter at her tagline, which read _I’m feisty and sassy, but I’m loving and caring, too_ – _are you?_ They also didn’t miss the fact that she apparently went by a completely different name online, which was perfectly fine. Not everybody wanted to be recognized online, and they were sure she’d a very valid reason for doing that. It’d take actually managing to make contact with her to find out what that reason was, but they were all for it.

Rob decided that he wanted to look at some of her posts while he was working up the nerve to try messaging her, and one quickly caught his eye. Written in what appeared to be Sharpie on her arm or leg, he clearly made out the words _Gimme somethin’ to believe in_. Once the image’d loaded, he could clearly read what was written in a beautiful font directly above those five words– _You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road_. He’d have to be a special kinda stupid not to recognize part of the outro from one of his band’s most popular power ballads, and that made him a bit wary. Was his supposed niece an _über_ -fan that’d go absolutely ape-shit on him, if he contacted her, or was she actually a decide person?

Heaving a heavy sigh, he navigated back to her actual profile and clicked the _Message_ button before he could lose his nerve, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake.


	2. Two

It was the next Day before Rob worked up enough nerve to go check his own Instagram–which he purposely withheld from the public for sake of his privacy. Part of him’d been hopeful that his supposed niece’d answer, and quickly, but another part was terrified that she wouldn’t. He also Feared that if she _did_ respond to his message, she’d turn out to be fairly unfriendly and prove to be far from approachable.

But despite the Anxiety he’d worked up, he still logged into his Instagram account while the house was quiet. Zak and Zoe were at work already, and he’d already taken care of what he needed to in order to keep his restaurant afloat, especially after last Year’s pandemic that was still ongoing. It was the perfect Time to actually think straight, if he wanted to make sense of any response he’d gotten and formulate one of his own.

Luck seemed to be on his side, and the bassist heaved a sigh before a smile crossed his face when he realized that he’d a private message. Sure enough, it was a response from the young woman he still wasn’t entirely sure was related to him. And while a part of him’d hoped she’d a-ctually believe his claim that he’d tacked onto his introduction, part of him wasn’t surprised that she was skeptical. Skepticism could serve a body good in this World, so he wasn’t the least bit offended that she wanted some kinda proof that he was who he said he was. After all, she’d a right to wanna be sure some imposter wasn’t pulling her chain, and he respected that.

With a quick, unedited selfie that showed off the bed-head he hadn’t bothered doing anything with yet shot off to her inbox, Rob sat back to await another response. He was surprised to see in the bottom of the chat box that she was typing almost instantly, which clearly meant she was awake at the very least.

_HowddaI know that’s actually you, not some pic that some fan stole and is using?_

He couldn’t help a laugh as he read that, but still managed to type his response. _Well, ya technically don’t, but there’s a way to prove its authenticity._

_Oh, really_ – _and what’s that?_

_Well, I’m seeing the option to start a video chat since I’m using my phone_ – _we could always utilize that, if you’re willing._

Le gasp– _Bobby Dall actually knows how to use a smartphone!_

The bassist almost choked on his coffee as he read that and took in the laughing emoji at the End of her message, glad to see she’d a sense of humor. _Not like I could avoid it when my kids all but crammed a smartphone down my throat a couple Years ago._

_Hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing_. That message was quickly followed by another. _I’ve just been under the impression that_ – _assuming ya_ are _who ya say ya are_ – _ya didn’t know the first thing about social media, and therefore smartphones._

_Contrary to anything I’ve said publicly, I know how to use all of that_ – _I just keep my shit insanely private for my own and my kids’ privacy._

_Gimme a few minutesta get coffee, and we’ll hop on that video call since I’ve nothing better to do today. Otherwise, I might be a bigger bitch than ya can actually handle without meaning to be, especially with a couple hellions running around_.

Rob was quick to agree to those terms, considering that part of him’d wondered if she’d even respond to his original message. Course, based on what he’d read on that family Tree later in the Eve, she didn’t have any known kids listed as part of her family. He couldn’t help but wonder if she just didn’t wanna admit to being a mother online, or if she was referring to something or someone else when she used the term _hellions_.

Maybe five minutes after she’d made her request, he was a bit started by his phone suddenly going off where he’d laid it on the table next to him. Glancing down at its screen, he realized the young woman he’d barely chatted with’d decided to go ahead and start their video call by way of letting him know she was ready.

When the call was connected a few seconds after tapping the _Accept_ button, the bassist was a bit surprised by what he saw as he propped his phone up against his laptop screen. It was clearly the same woman as depicted in that family Tree, but there was quite the noticeable difference. She appeared not to be wearing a drop of makeup, and her hair appeared to be just as much a mess as his own was. But she also seemed surprised in her own right to actually see one of her favorite rock stars on the other End of the call, not some imposter.

It was a couple months after that first video call–and later adding her as a friend on his very private Facebook account–that Rob was actually getting to meet the young woman proven to be his niece. As it turned out, she shared just enough DNA with him to prove that one of her parents’d to be his half-sibling, which’d been proven by a trip up to North Carolina where she was living. She refused to meet him in person till they got the results of that DNA test, ’cuz she didn’t wanna develop an Emotional attachment and find out that they _weren’t_ actually related.

But during that Time, the young woman–who preferred to be called Reagan as opposed to her legal name–hadn’t been closed-off to still getting to know him. She’d even said she’d look into their supposedly-shared Ancestor more, just on the off-chance that they really were related. No doubt he’d have questions about the man that she might be able to answer, if she were to look into his background more than she’d ever done before.

Now that they’d been proven to be uncle and niece, though, she was finally coming down to Florida–but there was a catch. Instead of just coming down for a visit to meet this particular branch of her family and going back home, she was moving in with the bassist till she figured out something else. The first thing she’d made quite clear was that his younger half-siblings were two people he _didn’t_ wanna meet, but it was too long a story to get into online or over the phone. And she knew of at least one other niece he prolly wouldn’t wanna have anything to do with once she told him about _that_ branch of the family, too. There was another niece he’d prolly wanna steer clear of, too, and she wasn’t sure about either of his nephews he hadn’t known about.

Knowing that both his _older,_ full-blooded siblings’d possessed many of the same questions–up till his older sister’s Death in 2011, that is–Rob’d made a few other plans, too. He knew damn good and well his older brother Don’d never forgive him for not telling him about finding their father, as well as other family members they’d never known about, so he’d invited him to meet their previously-unknown niece. To be quite honest, he wouldn’t have been surprised by said brother wanting to strangle him, if he’d kept something so momentous from him. Besides, having him and his own kids here for support during this first meeting could serve him quite well.

“She’s supposed to be here soon, right?” the ginger version of himself queried curiously.

“Yeah, last text I got from her said she’d stopped for gas around Daytona Beach,” he answered, nodding. “That’s about ninety miles from here, as the Crow flies, and she seemsta be a bit of a Lead-foot.”

“Never woulda thought a woman born and raised in the country’d be a speed demon,” Don laughed. “I guess I need to quit going by stereotypes, huh?”

“Considering there’s a lot thatcha dunno about her that took even _my_ charismatic Self a few weeksta get her to open up about…” The bassist shrugged, somehow hiding a wince as that made his shirt rub his side the wrong way.

“I’m guessing it’s stuff she’ll tell me on her own once she gets here?” he queried.

“Maybe–depends on how much she feels like she can trustcha,” Rob answered. “She’s admittedly got some serious trust issues, and as many problems as this particular topic can cause–well, I’m not surprised she feels that way.”

“I’m guessing political, religious, or something controversial like that,” the ginger mused.

“Religious since she claimsta hate politics,” he chuckled. “Like, claimsta not even really know whether she’s liberal, conservative, or somewhere in between ’cuz she pretty much ignores politics, hates the topic.”

“Hey, not everybody’s into the shit,” Don said.

“Yeah, I know.” The bassist nodded as he resisted the urge to rub and scratch at his side. “I’m basically a _leave-me-and-mine-alone_ kinda guy and couldn’t care less beyond that.”

“Sounds like this niece of ours is much the same way,” he mused.

“Seems like it, butcha can’t always tell in texts and video calls,” Rob reminded him.

The ginger didn’t get a chanceta respond before they heard a car door slam in the driveway, which made both of them perk up. Hearing that Sound could mean only one thing, and neither of them could help the grins that split their faces as they headed to the front door. It was the moment of Truth when it came to meeting at least one of their previously-unknown family members, and neither were quite sure what to expect.


	3. Three

Upon walking out his front door, Rob couldn’t stop his grin from somehow growing even wider than it already was. The young woman he’d been expecting’d managed to pull the U-Haul moving van he’d helped her rent around the End of the traffic island in his driveway that housed a lone Palm Tree, among other Native plants. No doubt that wasta make backing up closer to the front door later on easier on whoever did it, not to mention keep the driveway from being blocked in the meantime.

However, he couldn’t help a somewhat surprised laugh as they walked closer together so they could meet more or less between garage doors. Reagan’d sworn that she was a short shit compared to him, but he hadn’t been expecting her to be roughly a foot shorter. It was just part of the Charm she’d exuded since that first video call, though, which he loved about her.

“Glad to see ya made it in one piece,” the bassist laughed.

“Well, when ya don’t count the few possessions I wanted to keep, that is,” she chuckled, grabbing him for a hug.

“Ah, God!” Rob couldn’t help pulling her off him a bit, now resisting the urge to grab his side even more.

“Jeez, ya all right?” the young woman queried, her expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“I’m fine, if ya don’t count my side feeling like it’s on Fire,” he groaned.

“Inside with ya,” Regan told him, her tone leaving no room for argument. “’Cuz if I’m right, you’re gonna be miserable for a while.”

“Wait, what?” The bassist wasn’t quite sure what she was getting at.

“If ya think this’d be the first Time I’ve seen an old man shirtless like I was a nurse, think again,” she laughed. “’Cuz ’bout the only thing I _didn’t_ do for Daddy was wipe his ass and pop boils on his junk.”

Both men winced and cupped themselves protectively at the mere thought of the latter half of her statement.

“Not gonna know if I’m right or not without looking, but I’m not so cruel as to make ya half-strip in the middle of the driveway,” the young woman said. “Besides, if ya hate doctors as much as _he_ did, who wouldja rather have take a look–me, or some cold, impassionate nurse or doctor?”

“Point taken, hon,” Rob chuckled. “’Cuz yeah, I _do_ hate doctors, especially after my neck surgery back in ’01.”

“I figured that’d be the case, if your public side’s anything like your private side.”

Allowing himself to be herded back into his house, he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with his niece seeing him half-nude, but he was willing to deal with it. She’d a very valid point about his hating medical facilities _and_ professionals, which’d been the case even before 2001. But after that discectomy and spinal fusion he’d to undergo due to some old trauma finally reaching its breaking point, he _really_ hated those two things.

In the living room where she’d plenty of Light and Spaceta work with, Reagan waited patiently for him to shed his overshirt and tank top. While she was waiting, she was more than glad to introduce herself to her ginger uncle, who took said clothing articles once they were shed. She admitted that she hadn’t expected him to be here, but it was a pleasant surprise for her since they were the only two she was meeting for the moment. At least it kept her from being too overwhelmed with too many people at once, considering her hatred of big crowds.

Once the bassist’s torso was nude, she made him lift his right arm since that’d been the side to make him react almost violently. What she found wasn’t exactly a surpriseta her, given what she’d suspected based on his previous reaction. Seeing the Beginnings of a nasty rash starting on his abdomen and wrapping around to his back along his waistline was a dead giveaway.

Letting him lower his arm again, the young woman was able to give a pretty definitive diagnosis, even though she wasn’t so much as a nursing assistant. Rob’s jaw dropped when she said that she’d seen this before, just a few months ago when her own mother–his younger half-sister–came down with a case of the shingles. He and Don both were even more surprised when she said that–according to said half-sister–the man proven to be even _their_ father’d suffered multiple bouts of the same thing. She’d never realized it till her mother told her, but like when he’d suffer boils, she’d prolly just been too young to realize what was going on.

“How old are ya again? ’Cuz I take anything I read about celebrities online with a grain of Salt more often than not,” she admitted.

“Just turned fifty-seven back in November,” the bassist answered.

“And I turned sixty last week,” his older brother supplied before he could be asked.

“From what I recall when I looked it up last Autumn, those over fifty tend to make up the majority of shingles cases,” the young woman said. “Not everybody who’s had chickenpox gets it, but some do.”

“Both of us _and_ our sister Patty got that itchy shit as kids,” he grumbled as he took his shirts back. “But I didn’t think a virus or anything like that could be passed on genetically.”

“Technically, it’s not–but a few studies’ve shown that a lotta people who wind up with shingles’d a close relative who got it,” Reagan explained. “You’ve two–the man proven to be your father _and_ a half-sister. If there’s more than that–like your younger half-brother–I dunno about ’em.”

“Wait, younger half- _brother?”_ Don queried, his blue eyes widening.

“My Uncle Jason.” She nodded. “One of those I’d advise _against_ meeting, to be quite honest.”

“Well, I’m definitely curious about that,” Rob admitted, unable to help a wince as he let his tank top slide back down his torso.

“And I’ll be more than glad to fill y’all in,” the young woman promised. “But I’d suggest even one of those tele-visits with a doctor for that shit first, or you’re really gonna regret it. It doesn’t look that bad yet, but going by Kat’s experience, you’ll barely get any sleep once it _really_ gets going for one reason or another.”

“Well, it’s itchy as hell and burns like a mother fucker already,” he grumbled.

“Depending on how certain drugs affectcha, I wouldn’t suggest letting ’em putcha on Gabapentin–or any other variant of it–unless it’s a last resort,” Reagan advised Sagely. “And I damn sure wouldn’t take it, even as prescribed–I’d put more than the prescribed amount of Time between doses, if I’m honest.”

“Whyddaya say that?” the ginger queried, already working on setting up that tele-visit for his brother.

Making no bones about having seen certain people on that particular drug before, she said that her biggest reason was ’cuz of it being used to treat seizures. Apparently, not being weaned off it properly–particularly after a long-term usage–could actually _cause_ seizures since it was an anti-epileptic drug. She didn’t wanna see her uncle wind up in even more dire straits from just doing what a doctor told him to, and certainly not from going further and abusing the drug.

Considering his Past as an alcoholic and a drug addict, Rob couldn’t blame her for feeling that way, even if she didn’t know about his history. He wasn’t even too sure he wanted to bother with such a thing, especially once she started listing side effects of that particular drug. Dizziness, drowsiness, being unsteady, and quite a few others weren’t things he liked after getting dried out, considering they oft coincided with alcoholic intoxication. And he definitely didn’t like the Thought of having unusual eye movements, or jerky movements of his limbs, either.

Unfortunately, the best that could be done for the bassist was exactly what she’d suspected–being prescribed Gabapentin for the pain and basically being told to use extra-strength Gold Bond for the itching. Luckily, unexpected though it was, his newfound niece was more than willing to be the keeper of his scrip since she was moving in with him, which was a relief.

Left with nothing to do while waiting for said scrip to get called into a pharmacy so it could be filled and he could pick it up, he turned his attention to finding out more about his father. Even his older brother wanted to know more about the man, but there was a glint in his blue eyes that bespoke reasons he didn’t know about yet. Thankfully, their niece proved to be nothing, if not a lady of her word by settling at the table in his breakfast nook with them. She pulled out a file folder from a bookbag she’d brought in with her, an odd expression crossing her face as she kept a hand pressed to it so they couldn’t open it just yet.

“You’re not gonna like how I start off, and I certainly don’t like having to start with this part,” Reagan told them. “But I think it’s gonna answer at least one question that starts with _Why?_ right off the bat.”

“Then lay it on us,” his brother said. “’Cuz even if we don’t like it, I get the feeling it’s something we’re gonna _have_ to accept.”

Rob nodded his agreement, pretty sure he already knew what she was getting at as she opened the folder and pulled out a sheet of paper, which she turned so they could read it.

“What the–an obituary?” The ginger looked confused.

“Just read it,” she insisted, unable to help sounding choked-up.

_“Some names’ve been omitted or Changed to protect family privacy,”_ Don started, glancing up at her before continuing. _“Robert Howard White_ – _sixty-nine_ – _died of Natural causes at his home in Hillsborough, North Carolina on October sixteenth, 2014.”_

The bassist’d known that part was coming–the part about his father’s Death, that is–but he couldn’t help the tears that still welled up at having it confirmed.

_“Born on October fifteenth, 1945 to Ike and Elsie White in Tellico Plains, Tennessee, he was one of ten children. He served in the US Army as a field artillery repairman during the Vietnam War from 1965 to 1967.”_ He paused in shock to process that bit before continuing. _“Later, in 1970, he wed Katherine Evans White in Hillsborough, North Carolina, with whom he’d two children.”_

“My mother and Uncle Jason, before ya ask,” the young woman supplied.

_“He served a second tour of duty in the US Army as an infantryman, where he was stationed in Seoul, South Korea and later Ft. Hood, Texas,”_ Don continued. “So, we could very well have even more half-siblings that’re half- _Korean.”_

“It’s something my grandmother’s apparently always suspected, but never could prove,” Reagan admitted. “Considering what prolific breeders the Whites turned out to be, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Rob queried.

“Apparently, Papa Ike was one of _thirteen_ kids,” she answered. “Not sure about _his_ dad–Papa Ples–but again, I wouldn’t be surprised. And I seem to recall Granny Elsie being one of several youngins, too.”

“Well, keep going, or I’ll do it myself,” he told his brother. “’Cuz I wanna find out as much as I can about our dad, dead or alive.”

Nodding, the ginger took a deep breath and looked down. _“After leaving the military, he spent a significant portion of his Life working in construction, and then as a truck driver before finally retiring. He’s survived by his wife, Katherine; daughter, Sloan; son, Robert, and his wife Betsy; five grandchildren, Reagan, Gunnar, Andrew, Emily, and Taylor; and his beloved Dog, Max.”_

It seemed that Don wanted to snort at his own branch of the family being excluded in that part, but he couldn’t really take offense since they hadn’t known about their shared blood.

_“A memorial service’ll be held at the family home on Sunday, October nineteenth, 2014 at two PM, officiated by James Evans_ – _internment’ll be at the Hillsborough Town Cemetery. In lieu of Flowers, the family asks that donations be made in his name to the_ Wounded Warriors Project, _a charity he held dear,”_ the ginger finally concluded.

Looking up, he realized that his newfound niece was obviously gritting her teeth, her eyes scrunched shut. However, despite her obvious best attempts, that did absolutely nothing to stop the tears that were now streaming down her face. Even Rob noticed and–despite the pain from his case of shingles–scooted his chair over to wrap her in a tight hug. He was already torn-up by the fact that he’d never get to meet his father now, and seeing her pain just made it that much harder to fight his own tears.

After a few minutes of soft sobbing, Reagan managed to get herself together just as his kids–her cousins–got home from work. She was actually blowing her nose as they headed down what almost seemed like a maze of halls from the garage. Naturally, Zak and Zoe were surprised to see that not only had their cousin arrived safely, but she’d clearly been crying just moments before their own arrival.

Their ginger uncle simply made them read the obituary that’d set her off Silently, not wanting to upset her further. It was pretty clear that the memories bestirred by hearing or reading those words were still pretty strong, even several Years later, so they were quick to do as he’d told them to. But that left them all wondering one thing in particular–just how close had she been with the man they all turned out to be related to? How much of those supposed _Natural causes_ did she’ve to bear witnessta before he finally succumbed that Night in October of 2014? All of them wanted to know, but they weren’t sure if they should bother asking, as upset as just hearing his obituary read aloud clearly was for her.

“Wait, who’s this _Robert_ he’s supposedly survived by?” the youngest man queried in confusion. “’Cuz I’m pretty sure it’s not _my_ dad.”

“You’d be right about that,” Reagan chuckled, pausing to clear her throat. “That’d be our _other_ uncle, whose full name’s Robert Jason White.”

Even Rob’s jaw dropped at hearing that, although now he understood why she kept referring to him as _Jason_.

“As upset as ya seemed when we first walked in, I hate to ask, but I gotta,” Zoe sighed. “Just what were the _Natural causes_ mentioned in his obituary?”

“We tend to lean more toward Health fanatics than not, and if it’s something genetic we might have to worry about, ourselves…” her brother trailed off.

“So many different Health conditions all combined, it’s insane,” the young woman said. “Heart problems–both hereditary _and_ not–complications of fifty-plus Years of smoking, diabetic complications…”

“Jesus Christ!” Don gasped.

“Heart disease runs on his side of the family, and I think it runs on _my_ grandmother’s side, too,” she continued. “The complications of smoking were COPD and emphysema, which only worsened the congestive heart failure he’d been suffering from for easily a decade, maybe longer before his Death.”

“What about the diabetes?” the bassist queried. “’Cuz I’m sure Bret wouldn’t mind giving even me a few crash courses that I could pass on to Don and the kids, if it’s necessary.”

“I don’t think that one was hereditary on Bob’s side,” Reagan answered. “I know it was on Kathy’s, ’cuz it seemed like every single generation of _her_ family’d at least one case of it, but I ain’t sure about his family.”

“Who’s Kathy?” Zak queried.

“The _Katherine Evans White_ mentioned in his obituary–my grandmother, whom I refer to as _The Critter_ these Days,” the young woman dead-panned.

She continued by saying that, like many Southerners, their shared Ancestor hadn’t always made the best dietary choices. His having been a trucker–which her Uncle Jason’d gone on to do in his own right–meant that he’d made even worse choices over the Years. Not only that, but being so inactive aside from hauling himself up into and outta the rigs he drove–not to mention up to connect essential lines–just added to any Health problems that stemmed from those choices.

Even Don couldn’t help an audible gulp as she forced herself to continue, pausing long enough to bite back her own tears and clear her throat. Reagan said that the last couple Years of his Life, his Health’d been so bad that she almost hadn’t recognized him. He’d gone from being able to do most things on his own to needing help with almost everything, even opening his chapstick tubes. But what made it worse for her mother so than anybody else was a combination of things none of them were really expecting.

Not only did the young woman prove to’ve been abandoned by her own father as a baby–meaning she knew how Rob felt all too well–but she’d been Bob’s live-in caretaker. She’d to witness just how far downhill he went with her own eyes and ears, and it wasn’t easy for her. But with her grampa playing the dual role of that and _Daddy_ all her Life, it was even harder for her.

After another couple deep breaths, even though she clearly didn’t wanna, she started walking them through that final Year of his Life. She vividly recalled one Night that she’d rushed him to the local VA hospital’s ER, his legs turning an odd shade of blue due to his circulation issues. Another thing she vividly recalled was being told in April or May of the Year he died–around the Time her Granny Elsie’d died, actually–that Bob White may or may not make it to Christmas of that Year. His Health was so bad that his doctors didn’t think he’d last that long, but he might just surprise them by living as long as two Years beyond that.

“I remember my mother, Kat, swearing she didn’t think he’d make it to even Halloween, let alone Christmas,” Reagan told them. “I didn’t wanna believe it, ’cuz like I said before, he was like my daddy _and_ my pappaw growing up.”

The bassist couldn’t help choking up a bit in his own right, even as he rubbed her back Soothingly.

“But the Night he died–Gods, I wouldn’t Wish living through that on even my worst enemy, let alone any of y’all,” she said, barely biting back a sob. “Be glad y’all didn’t have to be there for that part of the Insanity, even though I’d give anything to go back and at least have y’all at his funeral.”

“Was it really _that_ bad?” Zak queried, his own face twisting in anguish.

“If I’d known the last Time I’d touch him while he was still alive was on his birthday the Day before–” The young woman broke off with the sob she’d been struggling to bite back. “Fuck, I’d give _anything_ short of my very Soul to go back and show him how much I really loved him before it was too late!”

All four of those around her engulfed her in a group-hug, Rob biting back a wince as his daughter accidentally brushed against the burning rash on his side since she didn’t know about it.

“I remember that I’d a couple of the beers I bought for my twenty-first birthday two Days before he died,” Reagan sobbed. “I went to bed early that Night, ’cuz I’d started off with Jack and nursed those couple beers, so I wanted to sleep it off before I took it too far–again.”

“Sounds reasonable,” the ginger told her.

“Around Midnight, _The Critter_ woke me up by pounding on my bedroom door like she was trying to break it down,” she continued. “She was gone by the Time I opened the door, so I knew to put on some clothes since I slept nude back then. When I found her in the master suite, she was hysterical and screaming, _He won’t wake up_ – _I can’t get him to wake up!”_

Even her cousins winced sympathetically, unable to imagine being in that kinda scenario.

“She was on the phone with Jason, who insisted I check for a pulse I knew I wasn’t gonna find,” the young woman whimpered. “Checking for that pulse was the last Time I ever touched him before he was reduced to an urn full of ash.”

Getting herself together a bit better, Reagan explained that–over the course of several months prior to that Night–she’d observed her grampa’s breathing pattern a lil too well. She could tell just by looking at him the Night he died that he wasn’t breathing, so his already turning Colors–which coulda been a result of his circulation issues again–told her all she needed to know. All her observations combined told her that he was already dead, that no amount of resusitation’d bring him back, and that his Death’d to be reported.

After she’d called the authoritiesta report said Death, it was a couple hours of absolute Mayhem, as far as she was concerned. Paramedics and law enforcement’d shown up, wherein they’d pronounced him dead with an estimated Time of Death around ten-thirty that Night. Her Uncle Jason’d said he was packing up his family and making the two-to-three-hour drive from their home in the Mountains, and they’d all started trying to get in touch with her mother. Kat was about two hours away in her own right, with her then-boyfriend–who happened to live practically within spitting distance of where she’d been working at the Time.

During those two or three hours, the young woman’d barely held it together for her grama, who’d been absolutely hysterical the whole Time. Looking back on it, she was certain it wasn’t ’cuz Kathy’d ever cared about the husband she’d just lost. She was pretty sure she was more upset at losing the hundred percent disability checks he’d started getting through the VA that Summer more than anything.

Upon Jason’s arrival, he hadn’t said a word as he’d dragged her and said grama into a helluva Bear-hug that’d actually cracked her back. But she hadn’t cared about that, ’cuz it was at that point that she finally broke down in front of her grandmother and sobbed into her uncle’s chest like a baby–like she was doing to Rob off and on right now.

“Six Years later, I _still_ can’t listen to the Black Veil Brides song _Lost it All,_ or hear the intro to _The Price is Right_ without breaking down like this,” Reagan said with a sniffle. _“Lost it All_ was the song I was brokenly singing along with as they were carting his corpse out for cremation, and he watched _The Price is Right_ religiously every single weekday.”

“So, now it’s a trigger for ya,” Zak mused.

“Duly noted,” the bassist said when she nodded. “Hell, I’m not so sure _I’ll_ be able to watch it anymore, knowing what I do now.”

“You never got the chanceta know him, so don’t let that stop ya,” she told him. “Hell, let it be one of the small ways ya keep alive the memory of the man who helped make ya.”

“Well, ya just made a good point in that I never got to know him,” Rob argued gently. “And not by my own choice since Mom always said that Dad left when I was around two.”

“Which’d certainly be explained by him serving in Vietnam from ’65 to ’67,” his brother pointed out. “Ya didn’t turn two till November of ’65, so it jives.”

“Trust me, I’ve my ways of keeping his memory alive,” the young woman told them. “Actually…”

Pushing herself up from the table in the breakfast nook, she wiped at her eyes with one hand while using the other to pull out the key to the moving van out front. None of them were quite sure what to say as she headed outside, telling them to just stay put for a minute. She apparently wanted to surprise them with something, but they weren’t sure what that something was.

Upon her Return, they were surprised to see her carrying what was obviously a handmade guitar case. Based on its shape, it was no doubt for an acoustic guitar, and that was the thing that caught the bassist’s attention more than anyone else’s. He could tell by the patina of the case that it was far from being new, and it made him wonder just how old it was. Not only that, but it made him wonder exactly who’d made it, as well as how on Earth his newfound niece’d been the one to come into possession of it now.

“Daddy, as I call him these Days–he’s the one who made this case,” Reagan said as she gingerly set the case down on the tile floor at the End of the island. “Going by what Jason said, he made it when Jason was a lil kid, so it’s pretty old and that much more special to me.”

“Yeah, it looks like it’s some patina to it,” the bassist agreed. “I just wasn’t sure how old it really was, or who’d made it since it’s obviously handmade.”

“Well, this is the part that’ll prolly get to you more than anybody,” she told him as she unlatched it.

Rob cocked a brow curiously, watching as she flipped open the lid and pulled out an acoustic guitar that looked as old as the case, itself.

“This _Martin_ and another guitar out in the moving van were Daddy’s before he died,” the young woman explained, using the island to push herself back to her feet. “They’d be in the Mountains of North Carolina, if I hadn’t locked them and one of his amps in my bedroom immediately after his Death.”

“Damn, really?” Don queried, biting back a laugh at his baby brother’s shocked look when she moved to hand the guitar to him.

“Jason and his ilk damn near cleaned out everything that belonged to Daddy like _they_ were the only ones entitled to any of it,” Reagan answered. “His military uniforms, all but one shotgun that Kat managed to save for my own younger half-brother, these guitars and the amp _I_ saved–they took all of it.”

The bassist was almost too Awed by getting to hold something that’d once belonged to his dead father since he’d never met the man to pay attention to her.

“But he loved that guitar, and I refused to let ’em take his _Avion_ along with the _Les Paul_ knockoff he bought that Summer before he died and a Samick he’d had for upwards of three decades,” she continued. “And considering that Betsy even tried to make off with family photo albums she’d absolutely no right to, Kat got so pissed that I’m pretty sure she came within an ass-hair of knocking her over the porch rail over that shotgun Gunner got.”

“I gotta say, this thing looks damn near like it just came off the rack at Guitar Center,” Rob mused. He was further surprised to give it an experimental strum and realize that it was actually tuned to the key he normally used with his band.

“Trust me, that guitar’s older than I am,” the young woman chuckled. “I just turned twenty-seven in October, and I remember him playing it pretty much my entire Life.”

“You’re shitting me,” Zak breathed, looking up from giving it a closer inspection of his own.

Shaking her head, Reagan pulled out a stack of what were obviously pictures that she’d apparently tucked into the guitar case before she left North Carolina. Leafing through them, she finally found one she seemed to be looking for more than any other, which she laid down on the table. They all leaned closer for a better look, the bassist careful to not so much as bump the body of the guitar he still held against said table.

In the picture, their common Ancestor seemed to be sitting on either a couch or the edge of a bed since they couldn’t quite tell what it was. But what surprised them wasn’t the lil girl in a diaper sucking on a paci and wearing a pair of men’s cowboy boots that came up to her crotch. No, it was that–unless they were all mistaken–said Ancestor held the very same guitar in his lap.

Looking back up at the young woman, her newfound uncle and cousins all agreed on one thing–this man looked so much like the one currently holding that guitar when he was around forty-five, it wasn’t even funny. She couldn’t help a laugh as she said that Bob’d been forty-eight when she was born–or rather, had turned that age the Day afterward. Her grin actually grew, though, as she told them that the toddler in the picture with him was actually her. According to other family members, she used to love wearing his cowboy boots, even though they were a dozen sizes too small for her.

But obviously, Reagan’d a clear interest in Music from a very young age, as evidenced by both this picture and stories of her childhood. She was apparently guilty of running up to her grampa with just about any guitar in her hands that she could get them on and saying, _You play the tar-tar, and I’ll dance!_ The entire group cracked up at that admission on her part, but now they were all wondering if that interest in Music’d faded over the Years. Not even the bassist was entirely sure since she’d never said in any of their video calls that she was a musician now.

“Used to play flute and picc back in middle and high school,” the young woman answered with a shrug when she was asked. “And no, Uncle Rob, your Sanity ain’t fading on ya yet–that guitar’s tuned to Poison’s tuning for a reason.”

“So, I _was_ right about that when I strummed it!” Rob laughed. “Now I gotta know why.”

Instead of answering, she simply held out her hand in a clear sign to give her the guitar he was still holding.

“Ah, so ya actually play,” the bassist chuckled.

“Not very much, I’ll admit,” Reagan said, moving to prop her foot on Zak’s knee so she could settle the guitar on her thigh. “Mostly ’cuz figuring out tabs that I find online since I play by ear drives me nuts more than it doesn’t.”

“Hey, at leastcha manage to give yourself a starting point,” said cousin chuckled.

“Well, this particular song–shit, I’d to rewrite the tab I found before I could ever start practicing it!” the young woman declared. “The original was so fucked-up, I was playing the song wrong in a couple different spots till I figured out _what_ was wrong.”

“So, what _are_ ya about to play for us?” Don queried curiously.

“You’ll recognize it–one of y’all, in particular,” she snickered. “And if y’all don’t, shame on y’all.”

They all cocked their brows curiously, each of them noting how she seemed to have some trouble with wrapping her hand around the thick neck. But it didn’t take more than the first few notes for them to realize what Reagan’d meant by what she’d said. Not only did they recognize the song all too easily, especially the further into it she got, but they realized she was actually playing the _bass_ riff to the song in question.

Rob couldn’t help but be flattered at realizing that his newfound niece’d sat down and taught herself how to play _Every Rose_ long before ever knowing they were related. But it wasn’t just that she’d taught herself that particular song–it was that she’d taught herself how to play _his_ part from it. He also thought this song particularly fitting for the situation they were all going through together. After all, it was the epitome of the song’s lyrics, if he’d ever experienced it–he may never get to meet his father since the man was dead, but he was getting to meet another relation who’d clearly loved the man more than she could put into words.

Still, said young woman almost immediately swinging into a different Poison song almost as soon as she’d finished _Every Rose_ was a bit of a surprise. It wasn’t just ’cuz she managed to play his piano riff on guitar before launching into his bass riff on it, but ’cuz the bassist didn’t think she was much of a sappy person.

As she soon wrapped up even _Something to Believe In,_ he knew one thing as well as he knew his own name. While he hadn’t had a particularly strong connection to that latter song–not like Bret did since he’d written it mostly about a cousin of his and his late best friend–he was gonna have one now. In fact, he couldn’t help a few tears of his own as she managed to sing while she was playing, the part in the first verse about a suicidal Vietnam vet really getting to him. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever be able to play that particular song onstage again without bursting into tears, but only Time’d tell if he was right about that or not.


	4. Four

_May, 2021_

_Los Angeles, California_

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Rob grabbed his Water bottle as he waited out the bickering amongst his blonde band mates. He’d flown out West only a couple weeks after officially meeting his niece and getting her settled, so he hadn’t been in the best of moods. After all, he’d found out that his case of the shingles was likely to last between three and five weeks, if it followed the typical pattern presented by those who came down with it. In fact, he was at the stage where most of the blisters that’d eventually formed had popped and scabbed over, most of the scabs already gone with few remaining.

But the first week or two that he’d been back in California was the hardest and prolly most torturous for him. Bret, CC, and Rikki were all worried when he’d barely made it through their first rehearsal for the rescheduled _Stadium Tour_ without screaming. Catching him popping some kinda pill only a couple minutes after leaving their rehearsal Space’d really freaked them out. All three of them thought he’d become a drug addict since their last tour, so they were worried.

Once the bassist’d filled them in on what he was suffering through–which included proving it by showing them the nasty rash–they’d understood all too well. They knew from horror stories they’d heard that shingles was incredibly painful, so it’d been no Wonder he’d been in a bad mood all throughout rehearsal. Still, they wanted him to be careful with the meds he’d been prescribed, especially Bret since he was familiar with Gabapentin and its uses due to being diabetic, which could cause nerve damage and result in such a prescription.

“Are we finally ready to move on?” Rob queried after they’d settled down.

“Yeah, I think so,” Rikki answered, nodding from his kit. “Ya sure you’re still good to go?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he told him with a nod of his own. “That damn rash’s mostly down to just a few lingering scabs, which I can’t really pick since I keep my nails cut so short.”

“If you’re sure,” CC agreed, although he sounded a bit reluctant.

“I am,” the bassist assured them. “What’s next in the setlist?”

_“Something to Believe In,”_ Bret answered, taken aback when he blanched. “What?”

“Nothing.” Rob wasn’t about to admit that he may not make it through that particular song since he hadn’t told them about his discovery earlier this Year.

“Dude, ya never pale like you’re about to pass out just from hearing a song title,” the drummer argued.

“I said it’s nothing,” he snapped. “Let’s just dive in so we can all get outta here sooner.”

Unable to really argue with him since they were all ready to go home for the Day, they simply shrugged as he settled behind his keyboard. He was as stubborn a man as any of them’d ever met–which he now knew came from his deceased father–and they weren’t gonna win any fights once that side of him came out.

Taking a deep breath, the bassist tried to steel himself as he started tapping out the all-too-familiar piano intro he’d been playing for decades. He hoped he’d be able to get through this song so he wouldn’t have to explain anything to his band mates, ’cuz he really didn’t wanna get into it right now. Not without at least his niece at his side since she could explain it better due to knowing more than he did, even now. But by the Time the front man took his deep breath to start the first verse, he could already feel himself choking up.

Glancing over from his kit, Rikki could tell something was really wrong with the man who’d once been the lone brunette of his band. He didn’t know what was going on with him as he got ready to switch from piano to bass, but he certainly wasn’t expecting what came next. To be quite honest, none of them were expecting it, which was prolly what was even more shocking to them than what they witnessed with their own eyes and ears.

“Fuck, I can’t do this,” Rob ground out, clearly biting back a sob as he stopped playing and pulled his strap over his head.

“Dude, what’s going on with you?” the drummer queried, rising from his kit as his friend all but rocketed up from the bench at his keyboard.

All three blondes were shocked to see tears stream down his cheeks as he shook his head and turned to head outside just as three more bodies appeared for a surprise visit.

“Dad!” two of those bodies gasped as he quite literally ran out in tears.

It was the third body gasping _Uncle Rob!_ instead that surprised them even more, making them look at the shorter woman curiously.

“What the hell was that about?” Zak queried, his jaw dropped in shock.

“We’d just started running through _Something to Believe In,_ and–” the guitarist started, only to get cut off.

“Oh, fuck a Goddess-Blessed Duck!” that shorter young woman said. “Just stay here, or he’ll explode even worse.”

Without waiting for a response, she took off out the same door Rob’d just bolted through as if she knew what was going on.

“Okay, I repeat your question, kid–what the hell was that about?” Bret turned a bit of a hard look on his friend’s son.

“Just wait till they come back,” he sighed. “I don’t feel like getting my ass kicked by Dad, and I doubt Zoe does, either.”

Zoe nodded her agreement, easily figuring out that they hadn’t been told anything yet.

It was several long minutes before the bassist Returned, one hand swiping at his eyes and cheeks almost angrily while the other held onto the young woman’s shoulder. The corresponding arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and she seemed to be taking care with the area his rash’d been in earlier this month. Maybe she already knew about the rash and how painful it was for him, or maybe that was just something she did with anybody she side-hugged like this.

Letting even his kids hug him, Rob settled back on his bench, still a bit choked-up from the Thoughts Invoked by those lyrics. He knew he wouldn’t be able to explain anything to the trio of blondes with them, so he simply nodded at his niece. She’d get what he was trying to tell her without a word, and judging by the nod she gave him in Return, she did.

“All right, now that he’s at least a _lil_ Calmer–although I ain’t too sure how long that’ll last,” she sighed.

“I think I’m just as curious about who _you_ are as I am about what just happened,” Rikki admitted.

The other pair of blondes both nodded their agreement, concern for their friend etched into their features.

“Well, y’all didn’t hear me wrong when I called him _Uncle Rob,”_ the young woman chuckled. “Name’s Reagan–even legally, now that he helped me get it Changed–and it turns out that he’s my mother’s older brother.”

“Half-brother, but still,” Rob managed to chuckle.

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me!” Bret laughed.

“Man, I thought I looked like my mom all my Life,” he said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. “But if I’m not damn near a carbon copy of my own dad like Zak is, I’ll eat my own foot.”

Even CC’s eyes widened once they clapped onto the picture he pulled out, which was a copy of one from Reagan’s personal stash.

“Holy shit!” they yelped in unison, all three of them startled.

“Yeah, turns out this is my dad,” the bassist sighed. “His name was also Robert–much like my younger half-brother–but according to Reagan, everybody called him Bob.”

None of them could help a wince since they all knew he already hated that nickname, but he’d _really_ flip a lid, if they called him that now.

“So, what’s this got to do with _Something to Believe In_ and your unnatural reaction to it?” the front man queried.

“I–I–” Rob’s eyes misted over again, his throat seeming to swell shut on him as he choked up again. “My dad, he left ’cuz–”

“’Cuz he was drafted into the Vietnam War,” the young woman next to him supplied, sounding a bit choked-up, herself.

“Oh, my God,” the drummer breathed, reaching over to join their hug as the others reached up to cover their gaping mouths.

“He left me, Mama, Butch, and Patty without much choice, if he didn’t wanna wind up in some serious trouble,” he said, finally letting out the sob he’d been biting back. “But that’s not the worst of it.”

“I’m not sure if I wanna, let alone even _should_ ask,” the guitarist admitted nervously.

“I’ll never get to meet him and say _I love you, Dad_ any more than I’ll get to slug him one for not coming back to us after he left!” the bassist sobbed.

“Why not?” CC queried, innately knowing he wasn’t gonna like the answer.

“’Cuz he’s dead–has been since 2014!” Rob snapped, turning more so into the hug of his niece than that of his friend.

Even Bret and Rikki were stunned by that revelation as much as they were by his uncharacteristic breakdown. None of them were quite sure what to say as even his kids joined in on the hug, ’cuz none of them could even Begin to imagine how he felt. They’d all grown up in homes where their parents remained together at least till they were in their teens, if they weren’t still together now. Well, that was assuming that all their parents were still alive, that is, considering that the entire quartet was in their late-fifties now.

Just as their friend was getting himself back together, they were all startled by a knock at the door. Turning to face it, they saw the next band that was due to use this particular rehearsal Space today–which was none other than Mötley Crüe. Naturally, the second quartet made up of a lone blonde and trio of brunettes as much as they were back in the Day were confused at what they saw in front of their very eyes.

Surprisingly enough, it was Nikki Sixx that finally came over and knelt down next to the group, and Reagan got the feeling she knew why. It was no Secret that the slightly older bassist’d been abandoned by his own father at practically the same age, just for vastly different and less honorable reasons. He coulda overheard the tail End of their conversation before her uncle’d broken down again, but it was also possible that he was picking up on a certain Energy due to their eerily similar Pasts. To be quite honest, she’d always thought _he_ was prolly more Empathic than he’d ever realized, just like she thought about herself and her uncle.

“Ya all right, man?” he queried, gently squeezing his younger equivalent’s shoulder. “Outta everyone I’ve ever known, you’re prolly one of the few I thought even _had_ Emotions.”

“Very funny, Nikki,” Rob grumbled, reaching up to wipe at his eyes again.

“Hey, I was just trying to getcha to laugh,” the older bassist chuckled. “From the looks of things, ya could use it right about now.”

“Oh, I’m not denying that,” he told him. “It’s just–”

“Actually, _you’d_ prolly get at least part of his pain better than anyone right now,” his niece admitted when he cut himself off.

“How so?” Nikki queried, turning a curious look on her.

“Last I checked, ya were abandoned by your own father,” she said. “Correct me if I’m wrong since I’d much rather that than to run blind with false info.”

“I was, yeah.” The older bassist nodded. “Wasn’t exactly fun to grow up knowing that, then to never get closure since the bastard died before I could ever punch him in the face for it.”

“There’s another way ya know Uncle Rob’s pain,” Reagan chuckled.

“Just talk to Rikki about dropping by after your own rehearsal,” his younger equivalent sighed when he turned a curious look on him. “Been fighting shingles since the week before I flew out here, and now I could use a nap after that breakdown on top of it.”

“If you’re sure,” he told him. “I’m not one to pry unless it involves my own Life.”

“I’m sure.” Rob nodded as he let his son help him up. “Granted, my niece might do more of the talking than I will for a couple reasons.”

“I know more than he doesta start with, and this is still so fresh for him that it prolly hurts worse,” she said. “If he wants me to be his physical voice, then I’m not arguing it.”

Nodding, Nikki let Zak help haul even him back up to his feet before turning his attention to the blonde drummer. He wasn’t about to push buttons where unnecessary, but if he didn’t wanna talk about it here, he knew he’d have to go to him later on. If said blonde was the one he was staying with while he was out West, he needed to make those arrangements with him.

Rikki wasn’t about to deny him entry to his house, whether their bands’d ever really gotten along or not. He’d just met Reagan as much as the rest of his band, but he somehow got the feeling she’d mentioned him understanding his friend’s pain for a reason. Maybe she thought he’d be able to help him cope with that pain due to their similar backgrounds or something. They wouldn’t know without the pair of bassists having a sit-down together, no matter when that happened. For that reason, he was quick to give him his address before heading home himself, even Bret and CC heading there with him for once.


	5. Five

Around five that Eve, Rob yawned and stretched his arms over his head in a telltale gesture of having just woken up. Padding down the floating stairs from the guest room, he ignored just how much more open-concept his friend’s house was compared to his own. Even though he didn’t really like the floor plan and its layout, he was just glad that he’d a placeta stay during his extended trip out West that _wouldn’t_ cost him an arm and a leg.

Continuing his short path into the kitchen, part of him was surprised to see Nikki and the other bassist’s family settled at the island. Well, not his entire family–the man now had five kids, but the older four seemed to be conspicuously missing. It was his youngest child–daughter, Ruby–who sat in his lap while his wife sat next to him on one of the four bar stools.

Rob couldn’t really muster up much more than a grunt when the other couple greeted him, his friend chuckling and extending his apologies. Much like when he was a younger man, he didn’t normally talk very much when he first woke up, and all his friends knew that well. Hell, even his own kids knew that, and his niece was starting to learn that about him in her own right, as well. She wasn’t offended by that in the slightest, though, ’cuz she swore it was even more like having her beloved pappaw back than it wasn’t.

“Ah, it’s fine, Rikki,” the older bassist chuckled. “Can’t say I’m much different when I first wake up.”

“Seems like Bobby’s actually better about it than you,” his wife, Courtney, giggled. “You growl like a Bear more often than ya don’t, if it’s not Ruby vying for your attention.”

“Are we sure that we even _have_ human males anymore?” Reagan laughed, careful to keep her volume down. “I swear, even Zak growls when he first wakes up, and so has just about every other guy I’ve ever met.”

“Ya know, when ya put it like that…” She barely bit back a snicker as she grinned at her husband.

“Chill out, Nik,” the young woman chuckled when he shot her a bit of a dirty look. “Not judging either way without getting to know ya better, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing in my uncle’s case.”

“Whyddaya say that?” he queried, cocking a brow curiously as Ruby played with his hair.

“Remember what I said earlier aboutcha understanding his pain prolly better than anybody in the room besides me?” she countered, cocking a brow in Return.

Not quite sure where she was going with that, Nikki simply nodded.

“I finally broke down and got one of those _Ancestry DNA_ kits earlier this Year,” Rob sighed, finally deigning to speak. “Got the results back, and almost instantly got a hit on who my father could be.”

“Well, at least you’ve an answer there,” he told him.

“Definitely not the answer I wanted, though,” the younger bassist admitted. “I was hoping I’d get a chanceta meet and get to know him–only to find out that he’s been dead since 2014.”

The Sixxes’ eyes widened before Nikki winced sympathetically. “My condolences, man, ’cuz I know exactly how ya feel there.”

Nodding his thanks for the Sympathy, he told him that from what he’d found out, the man was literally better off dead. He hadn’t expected to find out that he’d a litany of Health problems that prolly woulda drove him to blow his own brains out, rather than suffer through them till the bitter End, if it’d been himself instead. That was when he simply shot a pleading look at his niece, who nodded as she settled on the older bassist’s other side.

Reagan surprised him when she seemingly made an Emotional disconnect before getting into the details, but he knew why she’d done that. If she hadn’t, no doubt she’d have her own breakdown before it was all over since this was already hard enough for her. Watching him break down earlier woulda only added to it by starting to trigger her, considering her memories.

By the Time she concluded her tale, even Rikki was horrified to hear the kinda shape Bob White’d been in by the Time of his Death. Hearing about how he’d been drafted into the Vietnam War, which’d caused him to leave behind the family he’d built, made him start to understand his friend’s pain that much more. He certainly started to understand why they hadn’t even made it through the first verse of one of their classics before he’d broken down. No doubt hearing those lyrics–even though they’d originally been written about Bret’s cousin–brought everything he’d learned to the forefront of his mind.

Rob let out another sigh as he nodded, finally admitting that he hadn’t been sure he’d ever be able to perform that song again after learning all this. He hadn’t wanted to tell his friends they were gonna have to cut it from their setlist, but if he was thankful for one thing, it was that he’d broken down more or less privately. At least he hadn’t humiliated himself by running offstage in tears in the middle of an actual show. Maybe now he could work through it and get to a point that he _could_ perform that song again without it having such a negative effect.

“Hey, ya don’t have to push yourself for the rest of us,” the drummer told him, covering his hand from where they stood at the End of the island nearest the fridge.

“We’ve played that song damn near every tour since _Flesh and Blood_ came out, though,” he argued.

“Yeah, and you’ve never known whatcha do about your dad till now,” Rikki retorted.

“He’s a point, man,” the older bassist agreed. “I get that Music can be cathartic–hell, I’ve been doing this five Years longer than you. But don’t let the fans’ expectations drive ya crazy, ’cuz playing a song that’s gonna make ya break down like that just ’cuz you’ve done it for almost three decades is gonna do just that.”

“I just–I dunno how ya managed to move on after ya found out about _your_ dad,” Rob admitted.

“’Cuz I took away his Power over me by telling at least his grave that I wasn’t letting him have it anymore,” he chuckled.

“Shit, I don’t even know where _my_ dad’s grave _is,”_ the younger bassist snorted.

“But I do.”

Glancing at his niece, Rob shouldn’t have been surprised.

“As stupid as it was, considering how much he supposedly hated the man, he’s buried between my great-grandparents,” she told him.

“Whaddaya mean?” Nikki queried.

The young woman wasn’t shy in sharing what she’d learned from her own mother, who swore up and down that her pappaw and her papa, as she called them, had never once liked each other. If she didn’t agree with Kat on anything else in Life, she agreed that the last place in the World he shoulda been buried was right next to a man he’d hated. She also agreed that her aunt’d made a grievous error in taking part of his ashes from his urn before it was buried, which she hadn’t known about till a few months before she’d met her uncles and cousins.

Said uncle’s eyes almost popped outta their sockets, much to lil Ruby’s amusement, when he heard that particular detail. Even he knew that that was one of the ultimate waysta disrespect the Dead, and quite frankly, it pissed him off. No Wonder his younger half-sister referred to Betsy as her _shitster-in-law,_ according to her daughter.

“Ya know, while a part of me hopes that he was able to move on and find Peace, there’s another part that hopes he’s haunting her up one side and down the other for that,” he growled.

“Wait, really?” Even Nikki was surprised to hear him say that.

“Well, I know ya professta be more of a combo of Jewish and Buddhist these Days, but look at it from the perspective of a Pagan who believes in Ghosts for a minute,” Reagan told him.

“All right, I’m listening,” he drawled, nodding.

“By taking part of his ashes before his urn was buried, she’s essentially permanently bound him to the Earth,” the young woman told him. “Whether he wanted to or not, he’ll never be able to move on and find Peace till _all_ of his ashes’re together again.”

“Okay, now that makes sense.” Even Rikki nodded. “I’d be pretty pissed and ready to haunt somebody for Life under those kinda circumstances, too.”

“That’s why part of me hopes he _did_ move on, but another part hopes he didn’t and he’s giving her what she deserves,” Rob said.

“Trust me, she won’t get that without everybody in this family who hates her ganging up on her after we’re all dead and gone,” his niece dead-panned.

“I’m kinda curious, but at the same Time, I’m not sure I wanna know,” the younger bassist admitted.

She made no bones about how–according to various other family members, as well as her own observations–her aunt’d never been anything but trouble. Originally from Pennsylvania, she’d moved to North Carolina as a young child and never moved back. When she’d met her Uncle Jason, she’d pretty much stabbed her claws into his beating heart and ripped it outta his chest.

For as long as she could remember, Betsy and her parents’d done everything they could to alienate Jason from the rest of his family. She’d hardly any memories of her youngest uncle that _didn’t_ involve that bitch, which made sense, given that they’d gotten married when she was two. But the thing that stuck in her craw worse than being told her own mother wasn’t invited to the wedding, if she insisted on bringing her along, was far more recent. Not even two Years after her grampa’s Death, she’d cut off all contact with that branch of the family, and with good reason.

Reagan made no bones about how her cousin Emily’d told lies on her that involved money, and her aunt’d flown off the handle over it. It was that her Uncle Jason’d immediately sided with his wife and daughter without doing his homework, so to speak, and went off on her grama that pissed her off. She’d always thought him more intelligent than that, and she’d absolutely no use or Time for people who behaved that way.

“A couple Years after that, he made another grievous error that made me start saying I wouldn’t piss on him, if he was on Fire and that was the only thing that’d put him out,” she snarled.

“And what on Earth was that?” Nikki queried. “’Cuz from your tone, it musta been pretty bad.”

“Kathy went up to the Mountains where he and his family moved to when I was young for Emily’s high school graduation,” the young woman answered. “Betsy’s a bad history of drinking–I mean, left thirteen-Year-old me to play Mommy to _her_ brats on one occasion, got wasted and stumbled off a quarter-mile down the road from a Fourth of July barbecue on another, bad.”

“That tied into your second reason for hating your uncle, I’m assuming?” Rikki queried.

“It did, ’cuz Betsy’d been drinking _again_ during the gathering for Emily’s graduation,” she answered, nodding. “Nobody could seem to remember that it wasn’t about them, but rather my cousin. One thing led to another, and the next thing ya know, Jason’s siding with that bitch once again when it came to something she said about Kathy.”

“Jesus Christ,” the drummer groaned.

“Now, the way I see it, he’d two options,” Reagan continued. “He coulda told _The Critter,_ as I call her, that he’d only sided with Betsy to keep things from spiraling even more outta Control once they were alone–he and my grandmother, I mean.”

“Or…?” The older bassist cocked a brow curiously.

“Or what he _actually_ did, which was make her believe that he’d sided with Betsy and that she was totally in the wrong,” she answered. “I wasn’t there to bear witness for myself, so I dunno exactly what happened. But between that, the prior fiasco in the Summer of 2016, and everything else he has or hasn’t done based on any given circumstances, I want nothing to do with his sorry ass.”

“To be quite honest, I don’t blame ya,” Rob admitted. “I mean, he’s my half-brother and I’ve never met him–but if any of that’s even slightly true, I don’t wanna.”

“That’s saying something, Dad, as near and dear as ya hold your family,” his son spoke up.

The younger bassist nodded, admitting that he’d grown up in a fairly close-knit family and his kids’d always been that much more preciousta him from not having his own father as a child. Maybe he’d left simply to fulfill a civic and patriotic duty, but surely there was a reason he’d never Returned to his family. What made even less sense was for him to settle somewhere closer to where he was from and start another family like the first never existed.

It was Reagan who’d a theory to that question, but it’d require quite a bit of research that she’d never be able to afford without suddenly starting to piss Gold. She’d never even considered such a notion before, so she was pretty certain none of her other family’d ever suspected it, either. But it was certainly a lead to follow, if ever there was one, and now that her Curiosity’d been stoked–well, she wasn’t gonna sleep peacefully at Night without looking into it. Given that she was already a bad enough insomniac, she decided to run it past the group surrounding her.

Now that she’d met Rob and found out that they were blood relatives, listening to _Something to Believe In_ with fresh ears’d–well, caught her ear. Right in the first verse, there was a lyric that spoke of a Vietnam vet losing his best friend overseas, his wife and kids while he was fighting in the War. Course, that was assuming she was interpreting that part right, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t floundered there.

“Nope, ’cuz Bret’s cousin’s wife left him while he was overseas,” Rikki said. “That and the shit he experienced over there was what drove him nuts–and eventually to suicide.”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious that my pappaw’d a family prior to his draft.” The young woman pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I mean, Don, Patty, and Rob never woulda existed, if he hadn’t–which means none of their kids’d exist now.”

“Yeah, that’s definitely true.” Nikki nodded his own agreement alongside his wife and the drummer.

“So, let’s say that he was actually married to Lynda like she claimed till the Day she died,” she told him. “If that’s the case, then it’s entirely possible she left him while he was overseas, for whatever reason.”

Rob’s eyes widened as he thought about it from that new angle.

“If Lynda filed for divorce while he was overseas and he was served with the paperwork before his Return Stateside–well, I wouldn’t wanna come back to Florida, either,” Reagan admitted. “Well, not for anything but my kids, that is.”

“So, why wouldn’t he’ve come back for us?” the younger bassist queried. “I mean, he shoulda been able to get at least visitation, even if he didn’t get any amount of custody.”

“’Cuz he was a drunk back then,” she answered, taking him by surprise. “The way he’s said to’ve drank till around the Time he _remarried_ my grandmother, circa ’77–shit, he’d have been lucky not to get arrested for drunk driving, if he’d shown up at a courthouseta fight for even visitation back then.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rikki breathed. “You’re saying that Bobby’s own drinking was–well, he’d a predisposition to it?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, now that I’m aware of our shared blood.” The young woman nodded. “Kat said that everything she’d ever heard about the man said that Papa Ike was a drunk before his own Death in ’77, Daddy was a drunk, then Uncle Rob.”

“Wait, _Daddy?”_ Nikki’s brows shot up to his hairline when she said that.

“He played the dual role of Pappaw and Daddy in my Life when I was a kid, so I usually call him by the title I shoulda been all along,” she chuckled. “Pisses my Birth Creature off when I do that, but I consider it one of my ways of honoring him.”

Steering the conversation back to the topic at hand, Rob said that her idea was certainly one worth looking into. He’d several boxes of old documents in his attic that’d belonged to his mother prior to her Death in 2016. Considering them sacred and private in their own way, he hadn’t bothered using what lil free Time he had to go through them all. However, there was a good chance that–like Kathy after her divorce–Lynda’d kept something like a marriage license, or even the divorce paperwork. It might be the only way to prove that his parents were actually married, that it wasn’t just a cover story, and find out why his father’d never Returned to him.

Nodding her agreement, Reagan said that she couldn’t help but be curious now, herself–she’d plenty of questions about her family that she knew wouldn’t get answered any other way. But now she’d another question going through those old documents might answer, in addition to the one she’d just posed. If Bob’d failed to Return due to a divorce while he was overseas, had her grandmother known about his family, or was that something else she’d hidden?

Even Nikki was curious as the young woman said that her grandmother’d a bad habit of not only fabricating shit to fit her own Truth, but hiding facts. More often than not, if she found something even slightly embarrassing or scandalous, she’d never mention it–even if she were made to dance in red-hot Iron shoes till she simply keeled over. If she’d known about her husband’s other family, she mighta hidden that fact once she found out ’cuz she deemed it shameful. Then again, maybe she’d been just as clueless as the rest of the family–and would remain such.

Looking her uncle dead in the eye, Reagan told him that she wasn’t bothering with that part till _after_ his tour. Even though she was beyond curious, she deemed it disrespectful to go through shit that wasn’t hers when he wasn’t home to go through it with her. She wouldn’t like it, but she could wait a few more months since she’d other things she could look into in the meantime.

Rob couldn’t help a smile as he nodded, glad to hear his niece say that she’d rather they go through his mother’s old belongings together. He didn’t particularly wanna be cut outta that part, but unfortunately, he couldn’t just jet off to Florida for even a week to do so. Like it or not, it’d definitely be better to wait till that Autumn once the _Stadium Tour_ Ended and he was back home for the Year.

But now he was curious in his own right–what on Earth could she have to look into while she was waiting for that moment that’d keep her just as occupied?


	6. Six

_June, 2021_

_Charlotte, North Carolina_

It was the Day of Poison’s third show since 2018, and the entirety of the _Stadium Tour’d_ just rolled into the Bank of America Stadium. To be quite honest, this was prolly gonna be one of the hardest shows Rob’d ever done, and his band now knew why. He was all of three or four hours away from where his dad was buried, but unless he caught a flight from RDU or something, he wouldn’t get to go to his grave till the tour was over. Other than that, his only other chance’d be during the two or so weeks off between their show in Pittsburgh on July twenty-second and in Jacksonville, Florida on August seventh.

Sitting backstage after Sound check, he really wasn’t feeling the upcoming meet-and-greet since his head wasn’t exactly in the right place. He was still trying to get himself into a better mood and headspace, but he honestly didn’t think he’d be able to join the rest of the tour roster today. Letting down the fans that really wanted to meet him–again, in some cases–broke his heart, but he wasn’t gonna give them less than he knew he was capable of, either.

Heaving a sigh, the Silver Fox of a bassist made to shove himself up so he could grab his acoustic bass. Playing his heart out was what he did for a living, and if running through _Something to Believe In_ once again helped him–well, it was certainly worth a shot. Maybe he could get out some of the pent-up negativity that was putting him in this funk in the first place. God only knew that it wasn’t like he’d be able to find a groupie for a pre-show romp–not that he thought even that’d help him right now.

Losing himself in the Melody playing in his head, Rob counted the beats till he knew his bass riff was supposed to kick in. He didn’t even hear the tapping of cowboy boots coming down the hall toward his band’s shared dressing room as he picked out said familiar riff. In fact, he didn’t even notice his band mates pause in the doorway, his voice soft as he sang under his breath.

_“Twenty-two Years of mental tears, cries a suicidal Vietnam vet, who fought a losin’ War on a foreign Shore to find his country didn’t want him back,”_ he all but mumbled, tears welling up in his eyes. _“Their bullets took his best friend in Saigon_ – _our lawyers took his wife, his kids, no regrets…in a Time I don’t remember, in a War he can’t forget…”_

“Damn, man–never knew ya could sing _that_ good.”

Startled outta his reverie, the bassist hit a wrong note as he jerked his gaze over to the doorway. “Damn it, ya rat bastards! Don’tcha know better than to scare me like that after all these Years?”

“Weren’t trying to scare ya,” CC laughed as they entered. “But Bret’s a point, all the same.”

Rob almost started to snap at him again, only to pause with the words stuck in his throat as he saw their reason for coming to find him. “Well, I’ll be damned, girl! What happened to never coming back to this God-forsaken State?”

“Ya really think I’ma let my favorite uncle play a show here by himself after what he found out at the start of the Year?” Reagan laughed, moving to hug him.

“Fuck, I’d like to think ya wouldn’t,” he chuckled, letting her settle on his knee.

“I know damn good and well being within four hours of Daddy’s grave, but unable to go see it for yourself’s gonna be harder than hell,” the young woman told him. “No way am I letting ya deal with that alone, even though the guys get why you’re in a bad mood today.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Rob agreed with a nod. “It just–it fuckin’ hurts, knowing that kinda shit.”

Even the blondes got in on the hug she gave him, Rikki rubbing his back.

“Dude, we can always say Bret’s diabetes started acting up or something so we don’t have to go on tonight,” he said.

“Won’t be the first Time one of us has been the scapegoat for another,” Bret agreed with a chuckle.

“Nah, we don’t have to do that,” the bassist assured them. “I’ve gotten to where I can stand playing _Something to Believe In_ again–I just prolly won’t sing my backing lines like I normally do.”

“Hey, if you’re too choked-up, you’re too choked-up,” CC told him. “Won’t be the first Time that’s happened to someone.”

“The good thing’s that you’re not the front man,” his niece snickered. “You’d really be in trouble, if that was the case.”

Rob couldn’t help a laugh as he admitted that she’d a point, ’cuz doing an instrumental just wouldn’t be the same. But he kinda wanted to run through it with her singing a co-lead line while they were backstage, just for shits and giggles. It was something they’d done at home–or at Rikki’s, once he’d flown out West for rehearsals–which’d helped him cope with playing it after what he’d found out.

His band mates were all surprised when he handed his bassta her, then moved to the keyboard that’d been dragged into their dressing room for the Time being. None of them’d realized that she was even the slightest bit of a musician, and they’d definitely never heard her sing. If they weren’t absolutely floored by her voice and how powerful it was, he didn’t know how they’d react to getting to hear it. That was what made him grin almost mischievously before he started plunking out the infamous piano riff that always tugged on more than a few heartstrings.

Once they’d rounded out the song with just those two parts plus Bret’s vocals, the trio of blondes erupted into a round of applause. Said aforementioned blonde actually thought she oughta get onstage with them tonight, but Reagan wasn’t entirely sure about that. If there was one thing she was shy about besides flirting, it was her singing voice, no thanksta her abusive mother.

“Nobody’s saying ya _have_ to,” Rikki assured her. “But there’s certainly a dynamic that’s never been there before, no matter how Emotional a mood Bret got into before we played it.”

“’Cuz he’s not a Music Witch, so he’ll never be able to achieve that, no matter what he does,” she chuckled.

“A _what,_ now?” Even the guitarist’s eyes widened.

“Long story short, I’m Pagan, and therefore a Witch,” the young woman explained. “My Primary Element’s Air, and all Sound and Music falls into that Element’s Realm.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense,” the front man mused, nodding.

“Well, even though I don’t partake in actual spell work–don’t have the Confidence for it, and it can be too dangerousta fuck with under those circumstances, before ya ask–my Power comes out when Music’s involved,” Reagan continued. “It’s not something I can Control–it just happens, like it or not.”

“And lemme guess–it drags out certain Emotions during certain songs, right?” Rikki queried.

“Exactly. I can get somebody amped up or make ’em inexplicably depressed without even meaning to.” She nodded as she finally handed her uncle’s bass back to him. “Hell, I’ve had guys popping boners just from hearing me sing before, it can be so–shall we say, bewitching.”

“Sounds like you’ve quite the bit of Pride in your singing, so why be so shy about it?” Bret queried, his brow cocked curiously.

“’Cuz my mother was abusive in pretty much every sense of the word,” the young woman answered. “And one of her favorite methods was put-downs on my singing, especially when I first puberty.”

The blondes’ jaws all dropped as Reagan explained how her mother’d started telling her that she sounded like a Cat in heat getting its tail stomped on when she was a tender twelve Years old. Never once’d the bitch apologized in all the Years since–the closest she’d come was telling her that she’d finally heard someone worse. But those words’d left their mark on her all the same, which was basically the epitome of one of her favorite _sayings,_ as it were.

_“Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but words can also hurt me_ – _sticks and Stones break only skin, while words’re Ghosts that haunt me,”_ she said. _“Pain from words has left its mark on mind and heart that’s tender. Cuts and bruises now have Healed_ – _it’s words that I remember.”_

Not even Bret could help a wince at that, knowing all too well how true that was.

“No Wonder ya jumped on the chanceta move in with Bobby when ya found out he was your uncle,” the drummer said with a wince of his own.

“More like I kinda gave him an ultimatum,” she chuckled. “I told him that I was open to going down to Florida to meet him face-to-face, but I wasn’t coming back to North Carolina, if I did.”

“Hell, once she told me her reason for saying that, I wasn’t about to send her back,” Rob said. “At least with me, she’s getting the Health care she’s desperately needed for Years, but never could afford on her own.”

“Wait, really?” CC queried, looking surprised.

“If y’all saw my teeth before this Spring, you’d have asked me how the hell I could even talk, let alone sing clearly,” Reagan told him. “Add in the rheumatoid arthritis that finally got diagnosed, even though it’s too late for any kinda effective treatment beyond pain management since it went undiagnosed for so long…”

“Jesus Christ,” they breathed, all three sets of blue eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Oh, it was a juvenile case that’s since dropped the _juvenile,_ based on all the joint damage in my X-rays,” the young woman said. “And that ain’t counting finding out that I’m actually diabetic due to my shitty Lifestyle choices.”

“Wait, seriously?” The front man’s jaw dropped.

“My sugar was so high the Day they tested it, they were trying to put me on insulin right then and there.” She snorted at the very Thought. “I told ’em that unless they were gonna teach Uncle Rob how to tie me down without triggering me and force the shots on me, I’d take my chances.”

“Why do that, though?” He managed to snap himself outta his shock. “I mean, I’ma Lifelong Type I diabetic, and I’ve never once said that, or anything similar!”

Shrugging, Reagan minced no words in saying that she wasn’t afraid of Death in the slightest–it was gonna come for her eventually. Whether she was twenty-two or a hundred and twenty-two, there was no outrunning it, so she saw no point in even trying. As far as she was concerned, it was better to just go out with as much dignity as she could muster up for whatever state she was in at the Time. If that meant going to bed and failing to wake again like her pappaw’d done–well, she found that more dignified, no matter her age, than fighting it unnecessarily.

Even Rikki couldn’t really deny that she’d a point once he pondered her words for a couple minutes. That wasn’t the kinda thing he’d do, or he’d have let the cancer he’d been diagnosed with a few Years ago kill him. Course, it wasn’t like she’d a spouse or children that she needed to worry about living for like he and the others did.

When he thought about it like that, Bret’d to admit that she’d a very valid point as much as his band mates did. He still thought she was on the crazy side for making that kinda choice, but there was clearly no Changing her mind unless she wanted to. Still, he said he’d help her get the hang of such things, if she ever _did_ Change her mind, regardless of her reason why. God only knew that he’d more than enough experienceta do such a thing since he’d gotten his own diagnosis at the tender age of six. It was completely up to her, though, and the offer’d stay open till one of them ceased to draw breath anymore.

It wasn’t long before the band was being called out for the meet-and-greet by their manager, and Rob finally felt like he’d be able to do it. Granted, he wanted his nieceta join them–which was a bit of a surpriseta her–’cuz her presence was Comforting to him. Knowing how hard it’d be to get through this and the show that Night, too, she was pretty quick to agree to his request as long as he let her know if and when he’d had enough and needed to leave.

Later that Night, the guys’d made it through their meet-and-greet flawlessly, considering that their bassist hadn’t felt the need to ditch them partway through. The fans were all surprised when he introduced Reagan as his long-lost niece, many thinking she was a much-younger girlfriend at first. That’d provoked quite the bit of laughter when she’d admitted that she’d thought her uncle was smokin’ hot for Years, but there were just certain lines she wouldn’t cross. Not even a million-dollar check being thrust in her face could Change her mind on that, and besides, she found being single suited her far better, anywhore.

Starting with the title song of their debut album, Poison’d kicked off their set with every bit of the wild Energy they’d always thrown into their shows. All four of them now pushing sixty and having given themselves quite the beating over the Years didn’t make a difference. They all lived by one of Rob’s more infamous quotes–that if a fan bought a $100 ticket, they’d give them a $400 show–and they lived up to that mindset tonight just like every other.

But just after killing off _Talk Dirty to Me,_ the rhythm section and CC all realized that something was wrong. Seemingly outta nowhere, Bret’d started acting like he wasn’t doing so well, and they were all immediately worried about him. It wasn’t very often that his diabetes’d act up mid-show anymore, but it could still happen occasionally. As serious as that kinda thing was, they didn’t let him try to argue with his tech, who’d almost immediately run out to help him backstage for a few minutes.

Heaving a sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair, it was the bassist who was hit by some sudden Inspiration. While he prolly wouldn’t do this kinda thing again, he was willing to put his own neck on the chopping block tonight–but not without some help. But getting that help was prolly gonna be the harder part, considering _who_ he was gonna have to beg for it.

“We all gonna take a quick break?” Rikki queried from his kit.

“Not if I’ve _my_ way about it,” he answered, his grin somewhat mischievous.

“Oh, good Lord–the _Voodoo Dall’s_ about to cast a spell!” the guitarist crowed into his mic, much to the crowd’s amusement.

“I’ll kick your ass for that later, man,” Rob laughed. “Right now, I’ve bigger Fish to fry.”

“Oh, really? Do tell,” the drummer said, his voice laced with a thoughtful tone.

“I’m willing to put my own neck on the chopping block, so to speak–but only if I can get a lil bit of help,” the bassist said.

The other pair of blondes caught on to what he was getting at in maybe half a second, considering what they’d witnessed earlier that afternoon.

Looking out over the crowd after catching sight of his own tech getting started on the job at hand, he grinned again. “Can I get a lil help with–well, begging somebody near and dear to me to help us out?”

Said crowd erupted into a round of cheers and applause.

“Well, say it with me as loud as ya can! Rebel–Rebel–Rebel!”

Even Rikki and CC chanted into their mics, despite already seeing that his niece was getting wired up.

“Louder–I don’t think she heardja!” Rob laughed.

_“Rebel_ – _Rebel_ – _Rebel!”_ the crowd chanted, their volume growing with each repetition.

The bassist let out another laugh as his niece finally joined them onstage, one of his spare basses hanging from her shoulder. He could tell by the glint in her eyes that Reagan was gonna make him pay for this later, but she was too good-Natured to deny his _request_. She may not do this kinda thing for any other band on the Planet, but she wasn’t gonna make her uncle–and the men who might as well’ve been such to her–make himself look like a fool so publicly.

“I’ll exact my Revenge some other Time,” she laughed after lowering Bret’s mic so she could actually reach it.

“And I’ll be prepared for just about anything,” he warned her. “After raising two brats and dealing with women in one way or another my entire Life, I’m not sure there’s much ya can do that’ll scare me.”

“Think again, but we’ll get to that later, dearest uncle of mine,” the young woman said.

Rikki and CC were both snickering as they watched and listened to their obviously-playful banter, careful to keep their mics from picking up the soft Sounds.

“Now, I’ve been having a few doubts lately,” Reagan said, having turned back to the mic in front of her so she could address the crowd. “Maybe y’all can help by giving me–”

_“Somethin’ to believe in!”_ the crowd roared as her uncle settled behind his keyboard.

Taking his cue after readjusting the mic set up next to it since he normally sang backing, Rob let his fingers start dancing over the keys. It never quite sounded right on an electric keyboard as opposed to an actual piano, but he didn’t exactly have much choice. Lugging around even a baby grand would get too expensive, not to mention take up quite a bit of room in their equipment trailer on its own. He’d learned early on that sacrifices’d to be made in this business, and not getting an actual piano on tour was just one of those sacrifices.

_“Well, I…see ’im on the TV, preachin’ ’bout the Promised Lands… He tells me to believe in Jesus, steals the money from my hands… Some say he was a good man_ – _Lord, I think he sinned, yeah, yeah…”_ she started off.

Ripping into the rest of the instrumental parts, the young woman focused on the bass riff since she turned this part of the verse over to her uncle whenever they played this song together.

_“Twenty-two Years of mental tears, cries a suicidal Vietnam vet, who fought a losin’ War on a foreign Shore to find his country didn’t want him back,”_ Rob sang, taking the crowd by surprise for a couple different reasons. _“Their bullets took his best friend in Saigon_ – _our lawyers took his wife, his kids, no regrets…in a Time I don’t remember, in a War he can’t forget…”_

It was pretty obvious that even his band mates could hear how much Emotion was coloring his voice for once, and if they hadn’t known why, they’d have been worried about him.

_“He cried,_ Forgive me for what I done there, ’cuz I never meant the things I diiiid… And gimme somethin’ to believe in, if there’s a Lord above… Ah, gimme somethin’ to believe in–oh, Lord, arise…”

Even Reagan glanced over at him for a moment, knowing how hard the second half of the first verse was for him, then turned back to the mic in front of her. The second verse–which she always took since she managed to get the right amount of certain Emotions better–was just as hard for her to get through. Only her uncle knew why that was, and she’d no Intention of explaining it to his band mates or their crew without some serious sweet-talking. It was simply too heart-wrenching for her to wanna think about most of the Time, but this particular verse always brought those memoriesta the forefront.

_“My best friend died a lonely man…in some Palm Springs hotel room… I got the call last Christmas Eve, and they…told me the news,”_ she sang, her voice veritably dripping with Emotion as she played. _“I tried all Night not to break down and cry as the tears rolled down my face_ – _I felt so cold and empty, like a lost Soul outta place… And the mirror, mirror on the wall sees my smile_ – _it fades again…”_

Even the blondes that were still onstage with them were surprised by just how Emotional she sounded, which managed to outdo her backstage jamming that afternoon.

_“Sometimes I Wish I didn’t know now things I did know then… Road, ya gotta take me home!”_

With that particular lyric, the young woman moved to settle on the End of her uncle’s bench for a few moments. That was as much for her hip–which was starting to act up a bit–as to feel more of his Comforting Energy, not to mention lend him some of her own. But it allowed CC to be put in the spotlight as he ripped into his screaming guitar solo, which was exactly what she’d Intended with such a move.

Just before said solo was due to End, Reagan pushed herself back to her feet and headed to the mic she’d been using. She caught Bret watching from just behind the curtain outta the corner of her eye, and she could tell he was both Awed and proud of her. Hell, she caught that feeling from the rest of the guys, too, even the crowd seeming Awed by her performance.

_“I drive by the homeless sleepin’ on a cold, Dark street, like bodies in an open grave…underneath the broken old neon sign that used to read,_ Jesus saves,” she sang, this verse being done as a duet with her uncle.

Rob kept his attention focused on his keyboard as he sang, not wanting to let the mixture of Emotions swarming him make him fuck up.

_“A mile away live the rich folk, and I see how they’re livin’ it up_ – _while the poor, they eat from hand-to-mouth, the rich’s drinkin’ from the Golden cup! And it just makes me wonder why so many lose, and so few wiiiin_ – _ha!”_

Rikki and CC–even Bret where he watched from sidestage–jumped at how she barked out that last word more so than how she stomped her foot for emphasis as she did.

From there, the young woman somehow managed to stick with the lead line that the front man normally sang, which was really the only struggle for her. When she was at home, she normally deviated and sang what was mostly her uncle’s backing line of _You take the high road, and I’ll take the low road_. But she managed to do said uncle proud by not screwing up now, her voice somehow taking on even more Emotion with the final two lines of the song before they let their final notes ring out.

The crowd veritably exploded in a round of applause as the guys roseta join her for a group bow, all of them deciding to make a bit of a Change to the setlist. CC’s full solo wasn’t supposed to come till after their performance of _Your Mama Don’t Dance,_ but there were a couple reasons for making that Change.

First and foremost, it was pretty obvious that the bassist needed a few minutesta get his head on straight again. Secondly, making that slight Change’d allow even Bret to be damn sure his sugar was at a level conducive to continuing without hitting the deck. If making a mid-show Change like that was beneficial, they were all for it, whether that suggestion came from any of them or the bassist’s niece.

While all but the guitarist were waiting backstage, Rob looked up at the other pair of blondes, their manager, and their crew. He’d been thinking long and hard about this, but he’d finally made up his mind on the matter that was–well, on his mind. He couldn’t wait till the End of the tour to visit his father’s grave since he was already so closeta it, not after the heart-wrenching performance he’d just given. Luckily, everybody understood–his band mates, in particular–and they didn’t blame him for wanting to do so. Even better was that his tech offered to fill in for him, just in case catching a flight outta RDU put him a bit behind schedule on catching up with them.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he shot them all a smile as he grabbed his niece for a hug, knowing she wouldn’t let him do this alone.


	7. Seven

_Hillsborough, North Carolina_

Rob took a deep breath to steady his nerves as his young niece made the turn into the cemetery she said their Ancestor was buried in. After rounding out their show in Charlotte, the pair’d made for his truck before the others’d even finished showering at the venue. It was only a three or four-hour drive to this small Town, and it was gonna be a while before they were anywhere near wound down enough for bed. To that End, they’d decided to just head for Hillsborough that Night and find a hotel in Town since she knew of at least one that oughta have some vacancy.

Now that they were both rested and either was capable of driving again, they’d checked outta said hotel and headed across Town. There was a part of him that was incredibly nervous about this lil misadventure, but it was something he felt he _needed_ to do. Maybe like Nikki’d done, he’d get at least a lil bit of closure from visiting his father’s grave–at least, he certainly hoped so.

Parking so that the sapling which was far bigger than the last Time she’d been here was Centered along her uncle’s truck, Reagan killed the motor. She hadn’t been here since the Day her beloved pappaw was put in the ground that Autumn Day in 2014. That was as much ’cuz she was simply too chickenshit to come back as usually not having the transporation to manage such a thing before now.

Shooting a look at the bassist, she finally opened her door and stepped onto the pavement the truck was parked on. He was quick to follow, quickly rounding the hood after closing his passenger’s door behind him. Pausing only long enough to warn any lingering Spirits–or other things that might be hanging out here–that they weren’t allowed to touch, nor leave with them, she took another deep breath of her own. It was only then that she started leading her uncle down to what she knew was the sixth plot in this row, careful to stay at the foot of the graves. Only once she reached her target did she carefully walk between the graves before kneeling down.

“It turned out better than I thought it would,” Rob mused as he knelt down behind her, referring to the headstone he’d ordered when he found out that his father’s grave was unmarked, as far as she knew.

“Yeah, it did, didn’t it?” the young woman agreed, unable to help a chuckle.

“I just–even seeing the proof right in front of me, I still can’t and don’t wanna believe it,” he sighed.

“Trust me, I’ve known it for almost seven Years, and it’s still hard to believe sometimes,” Reagan agreed. “It’s like–I keep expecting him to come around the corner, or be sitting in the recliner in the living room with _Swamp People_ or _Ancient Aliens_ blaring, even though I’m living in Florida now.”

“He seriously watched that shit, too?” the bassist queried on a laugh.

“Oh, Gods–he fuckin’ _loved_ the History Channel!” she told him. “That was damn near the only thing he ever turned his TV onto, if it wasn’t the news, one of his game shows, or an old Western right before he died.”

“Okay, I can’t deny that I’m his son now,” Rob chuckled. “’Cuz old Westerns’re one of my guilty pleasures.”

“Fuck, I thought I escaped those things in 2014!” the young woman said, clearly teasing him.

Both erupted into a short laughing fit, but were fairly quick to Calm themselves as they looked back down in front of them. Like her great-grandfather’s headstone a mere foot or so away, this one bore the name of their shared Ancestor. His Birth and Death dates followed his name, a short mention of his service in Vietnam immediately below that. Even still, it was the picture of him as a young man that her uncle’d wanted added just above his name that stood out the most and certainly looked the best.

Hearing a car approaching made Reagan glance up outta the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help a soft groan at what she saw. Unless she was mistaken, she knew who’d just parked behind her uncle’s truck–and she really wasn’t looking forward to this. But there was no getting outta the confrontation to come as the car’s occupants all got out, confused looks on their faces.

Rob looked up and followed his niece’s gaze, his cocked brow just barely visible over the top of his sunglasses. Hissing under her breath, she told him to brace himself, ’cuz he was about to meet a handful of folks he’d sworn he never wanted to. That made him realize just who this group was as they drew closer, if only ’cuz the middle-aged man amongst the group possessed a few key traits she’d told him about.

“The hell’re _you_ doing here?” said man snapped once they were within earshot.

“Last I checked, I’m just as much the flesh and blood of all three buried here as y’all are,” the young woman snapped in Return as she rose. “I’ve every right to visit these graves, if the desire so possesses me.”

“According to my sister, ya ran off months ago without a word!” he growled. “If that doesn’t cutcha outta this family, I dunno what does!”

“I only ran off to follow up on a lead for something–which happened to turn out far better for me than I coulda imagined,” Reagan told him. “And you’re not making a very good first impression on that lead, either.”

“Shit, one of the guys trying to suck me off’d make a better impression right about now,” Rob drawled, having risen to stand behind her. “And lemme tell ya, the Day Bret, Rikki, or CC try to do that’s the Day they’re gonna be put in their own graves after I knock their heads off.”

“Wait a minute–Bret, Rikki, and CC?” The overweight, middle-aged man looked surprised as he pulled off his own shades as if thinking they were making his eyes play tricks on him.

“Wish I could say it was niceta meetcha, _lil brother,”_ he dead-panned, in no mood to mince words.

The entire group–including the elderly woman he recognized as his stepmother based on pictures he’d been shown–gasped sharply and loudly in shock.

“No, ya didn’t mishear me, and yeah, I’ve been proven to be your older half-brother,” the bassist said, pulling off his own shades. “Unless 1974 suddenly came ahead of 1963, that is, and I wasn’t informed of that fact.”

“Holy shit,” Jason breathed, his eyes bugging out. “How on Earth–”

“Still looking for the actual proof, but I’ve reason to believe our shared father was once married to my mother,” he told him with a shrug. “Haven’t been able to look through old documents left behind by said mother after her own Death due to professional restraints–but I fully Intend to once I get back home.”

“Dad, why the hell’re ya so shocked?” The taller of the two young women with his lil group looked confused.

“You’ve absolutely no idea who you’re looking at, do ya?” he countered.

“Then allow me to introduce myself,” Rob said when she shook her head. “Bobby Dall, bassist, co-songwriter, and backing vocalist of the band Poison since 1983.”

The entire group’s jaws dropped as they realized that not only were they in the presence of a celebrity, but he actually shared blood with them. Reagan bit back so much as a smirk as she let their brains be rebooted by learning that, ’cuz she couldn’t stand any of this particular group. She’d her reasons for being at least indifferent to, if not hating every single one of them, but she knew better than to run her mouth unnecessarily.

Jason was the first to question how on Earth he’d proven to share blood with them, which simply made him shrug again. He made no bones about the _Ancestry DNA_ test he’d taken, although he omitted the fact that he hadn’t tried to contact anybody except his niece. Instead, he choseta protect her by saying he’d tried to contact several different family members, but she’d been the only one to respond. They couldn’t really argue with that since it’d be hard to prove, considering he might not’ve even had the right email addresses and whatnot.

It was the scathing look that his younger half-brother turned on their niece that warned him trouble was afoot. The man made no bones about accusing her of poisoning his newfound brother against him and this entire branch of the family, which didn’t sit well with the bassist. He was proud of her for not letting it get a rise outta her, though, given how temperamental she was.

Rather than let the uncle who’d barely had anything to do with her her entire Life get under her skin, Reagan simply told the Truth like she’d been doing all along. Even though that meant throwing Emily under the bus right in front of her parents regarding the shit from 2016, she stated the facts as they were known to her. Without so much as looking up at Rob, she made it clear that she invited him to make his own decision regarding his previously-unknown family members now as much as when they’d first met. If he wanted anything to do with them, that was up to him–she just wouldn’t hang out with them herself, if that was the case.

“Based on his _greeting,_ if it can be called that, I don’t want a damn thing to do with this branch of the family,” the bassist admitted.

“I doubt you’d react any differently, if ya were in my shoes,” Jason retorted.

“How I’d react in that situation doesn’t matter,” he told him. “I came here to visit my father’s grave while I’d the chance since I never got to know him like you did.”

Even the jaws of his nephew and other nieces dropped in shock.

“I spent my entire Life thinking my father was a Grade-A asshole for abandoning me and my older siblings,” Rob growled. “If my suspicions’re right, turns out that one of the lyrics from my own songs is truer than I ever realized.”

“And what lyric’d that be?” the woman he knew was his _shitster-in-law_ queried.

_“Their bullets took his best friend in Saigon_ – _our lawyers took his wife, his kids, no regrets…in a Time I don’t remember, in a War he can’t forget,”_ he sang. “By all accounts, my father took off when I was around the age of two, and what I’ve dug up jives with that.”

“He didn’t turn two till November of ’65,” Reagan said when they looked like they wanted to ask. “If he was drafted and deployed sometime in that Year or the next, it’d explain why he’d to take off so suddenly when Uncle Rob was around that age.”

The entire group winced as they got what she was getting at.

“Back to what I was getting at, though,” the bassist said. “If you’re as stuck up your wife’s ass as a couple different family members’re alleging, and one of those family members is even half as greedy and materialistic as she’s said to be, I want nothing to do with this branch of my so-called family.”

“That’s not fair!” her youngest uncle snapped.

“Oh, it’s perfectly fair,” Rob told him. “Ya see, I’ve spent more of my Life miserable than I haven’t, and I’ll be damned, if I let my extended family keep me in that state. And as much as I work to protect my bank account from even my own kids, I’ll be damned if I let siblings, nieces, and nephews start showing up to just hold their hands out, so to speak.”

“Then what the hell’re ya having anything to do with Kelsi?” he demanded.

“Reagan, as she prefersta be called, before I’ve to pull a shrieking Banshee off ya,” the bassist corrected him. “And I have anything to do with her, ’cuz she’s been the one to answer my questions as well as she could.”

“Or help him track down those answers, if even I didn’t have ’em,” Reagan agreed. “And I mean by seeking out old marriage licenses, divorce and military records, etc. when I say that.”

Rob made no bones about how she’d been the one to diagnose his case of shingles a few months ago, then insist he still get in touch with a doctor about it. She’d told him that she wasn’t a medical professional, so she might very well be wrong, but she was pretty sure based on what she was seeing. But since she turned out to be right, seeking treatment was a better idea than it wasn’t since he still dealt with a dull ache in the area where that rash was, even now.

Giving his younger half-brother what amounted to a Death glare, he minced no words in saying that since the rest of their family either couldn’t or wouldn’t help her get the Health care she needed, he was more than willing to. Even if she choseta look at it differently, he considered it repaying all the help she’d given him in finding out more about his father’s side of the family. It was a tall order to fill, and he didn’t think such a favor’d ever be fully repaid before his own Death, but he could at least try in the meantime.

Not wanting to deal with this man any longer, the bassist left him with one last parting statement that he knew’d make an impact. He warned him that the next Time he decided to shove his head up his ass over something, he should make sure he wasn’t trying to pick a fight with the man who’d paid for their father’s grave marker since he couldn’t do anything else for the man. It was in really bad taste to do such a thing, considering that he’d the paperwork to back up his claim–and on his very person, at that. God knew he didn’t have to spend his money on such a thing, but he’d wanted to since he thought doing the opposite even more distasteful.

Wrapping his arm around Reagan’s shoulders, he told her that it was high Time they got outta there. They’d a long drive ahead of them, if they were ever gonna make it all the way down to Miami in Time for the next show. As it stood, his tech was prolly gonna have to fill in for him, and the two of them just meet up with the tour in Orlando since that was further North.

Ignoring Jason and his ilk watching as they headed back to his Tahoe, the young woman said that they might be better off just meeting up in Orlando. Barring any traffic jams, detours, and the like, it was already a nine-hour drive or so from right where they were to the lot his band’s bus was gonna be parked in. Going all the way down to Miami’d take another three hours on top of that, and that was only if they drove all the way through. She didn’t imagine that’d happen since they’d have to switch out so that one was driving while the other was napping in the passenger’s seat. Besides, she didn’t think her hip’d be able to stand that kinda drive before making the three-hour drive back home outside the Orlando area.


	8. Eight

Two Days later, Rob let out a groan as he stretched upon stepping outta his truck for what felt like the thirty-sixth Time. Having made a call to his manager, it’d been agreed that it’d make more sense for him to meet up with the tour in Orlando since he obviously wasn’t gonna leave his personal truck in North Carolina. Not only that, but it gave his niece less Time to have to be trapped in uncomfortable circumstances since such a long drive was hell on her arthritis.

His band mates’ faces all lit up as they disembarked their bus and found him and Reagan both awaiting them in one piece. They were glad to see that they’d apparently made it to their detour destination, then the meeting point, as safely as they could. Naturally, all three blondes were curious as to how said detour went, which put a sour look on his face for a few moments.

“Let’s just say running into the younger half-brother I never wanted to meet and having him almost immediately jump down my niece’s throat wasn’t exactly the best first impression on his part,” the bassist told them.

“Wait, what?” Bret’s jaw dropped as he processed that.

“Yeah, my Uncle Jason and his ilk showed up right after we got to Daddy’s grave,” Reagan dead-panned as she rolled her eyes. “We barely had enough Time to comment on how the headstone Rob bought for Daddy’s grave turned out before I heard a car pulling up.”

“Which, of course, woulda caught just about anyone’s attention,” Rikki mused.

“I recognized that Cherry-red Toyota _Corolla_ as soon as it rolled up,” she told him. “That was the last car I knew _The Critter_ to have, so I figured it’d to be her, at the very least.”

_“The Critter,_ huh? I like it,” CC chuckled.

“Well, that’s pretty much what she is,” the young woman said. “She all but Destroyed part of Kat’s original hardhood in the old mill house she bought in the Summer of 2019, then took off for parts unknown ’cuz she didn’t wanna follow the simplest of rules.”

The entire band snorted and rolled their eyes as they remarked on how stupid that sounded.

“Turns out, she ran off to Jason’s when she–well, ran off like some kinda petulant teenager,” Reagan continued. “And we know she poisoned him and his side of the family against us, ’cuz he quit talking to Kat pretty much as soon as _The Critter_ ran off. Finding out she was registered to vote in the same County he lives in proved that to us, if nothing else.”

“Ya know, when ya add that to the rest of whatcha told me about him and his ilk, it’s no fuckin’ Wonder ya wouldn’t piss on him, if he was on Fire and that was the only thing that’d put him out,” Rob said. “God knows I’d just as soon fuck a meat grinder so I wouldn’t have a dick at all as piss on him to put him out after how he acted in front of me.”

“Damn, man!” the front man cackled. “Them’s some serious fighting words, right there!”

Rolling his eyes again, he walked them through his younger half-brother’s behavior from the moment he and his group’d walked up. He still found his shock and how he’d momentarily tried to back-pedal upon finding out not only who he was, but that they were related amusing. If his niece hadn’t already warned him how that side of the family was, he mighta felt sorry for him being reduced to trucking as a means of both making money _and_ getting away from his bitch of a wife. But knowing what he did about him and his younger half-sister both, he felt no Sympathy toward them, just that they were getting what they deserved now.

A security guard approaching their group at that particular moment caught even said niece’s attention, making them turn to face him. Unlike when she’d shown up at their Charlotte show, the group that he said was demanding to see Bobby didn’t have tickets, let alone backstage passes. He was a bit torn on throwing them out, though, ’cuz they swore up and down that they were blood relations of his, and they looked quite a bit like him.

“Bets on it being Jason and his ilk?” the young woman drawled.

“I’ll keep my money, thanks,” Rob dead-panned. “Just answer me this, Mark–they got a middle-aged blonde woman with them?”

“Yeah, actually, they do,” he answered, nodding.

“If it’s not Jason, I’ll suck my own dick,” the bassist said, turning to Bret. “I’m going out there to deal with them, so join me at your own risk. Just be warned–my sister’s a greedy, money-grubbing bitch who’s held a torch for ya since _Cat Dragged In_ came out.”

“Jesus Christ, delusional fan-girl, much?” Bret groaned. “As if I’d ever have anything to do with a woman like that, whether she’s your sister or not!”

“Hey, at least I’m giving ya fair warning,” he told him, unable to help a grin as he shrugged.

“Didn’t stop him damn near thirty Years ago, that’s for sure,” Reagan snickered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the front man queried.

“’Cuz, if she was even remotely telling the Truth, she once got to come on your bus,” she told him. “According to her, ya looked at her, patted your lap, and said, _Come sit right here, beautiful.”_

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me!” CC cackled.

“Assuming she didn’t just Photoshop thista fuck with my head…” The young woman grinned as she pulled up a picture on her phone.

All of them saw that appeared to be a decently old picture once she turned the device around for them to see. It didn’t look like anything outta the seventies or eighties, but it certainly looked like it coulda been taken in the late-nineties, at the earliest. While the background wasn’t really discernable, the people featured in the picture most certainly _were_.

Sticking her tongue out at whatever camera’d taken the picture was a woman who clearly had bangs she’d teased up into the typical style sported back in the eighties. She looked more like Reagan than any of them cared to admit, her eyes appearing almost black due to the Lighting. The bassist was certainly able to confirm she was his younger half-sister based on other pictures of his niece and other family members he’d seen that she was also featured in. He still mocked a gag at the Thought of sharing half his DNA with her, much to their collective amusement.

But settled right behind her, his arms apparently wrapped around her neck and shoulders, was none other than Bret. Wearing his customary bandana and cowboy hat, one couldn’t necessarily say he was smiling, _per sé_. If the quirk to his mouth could even be called a smile at all, they’d have to say it seemed dimmed due to being tired after a long Day combined with a show. They didn’t know if said show woulda been on a Poison or solo tour since the young woman didn’t know when this picture was taken, but there was still no denying that it was him, regardless of other circumstances.

Studying the picture carefully, he soon admitted that he remembered the Night that picture was taken, if only vaguely at this point. He swore it was sometime around 2004, which meant it most definitely woulda been taken when he was on tour. Whether that tour was with Poison or his solo band was still up for debate, though, since he couldn’t remember an exact date.

“Fuck, now I feel diseased–and not ’cuz of my diabetes!” the front man proclaimed.

“Makes ya feel like ya need a thousand showers, and not a one of ’em will getcha clean, right?” Reagan snickered as she locked her phone and stuffed it back into her pocket.

“I’d even take it a step further and say that I’d guess this is how a rape victim feels after–well…” He gestured as he trailed off, the group following their bassist and the security guard.

“Unfortunately, I know exactly whatcha mean,” she told him, patting his back. “I was raped a couple months before I turned eighteen, and that’s part of why I prefer being single now.”

“You’re fuckin’ shitting me!” Rob practically exploded. “Jesus fuck–yeah, no Wonder you’ve that preference.”

“Kinda hard to trust a guy–even those I share blood with–to keep his dick in his britches unless I really want it after something like that,” the young woman said, shrugging.

“Well, let’s get these idiots taken care of,” her uncle grumbled. “’Cuz they’re really starting to cramp my style and dampen the good mood I woke up in.”

“Sounds like a plan, dude,” Rikki agreed. “Ya know we’ve all got your back.”

“Got that right,” CC agreed. “I might be a short-stack, but damned if I won’t put up a fight, if I have to.”

“Oh, I know ya will, C,” he chuckled. “Just keep in mind that my brother’s actually taller than me, and his calves’re as big as Reagan’s thighs.”

All three blondes’ jaws dropped as they glanced down at the body parts in question, which made her grin.

“White family trait, unfortunately,” Reagan snickered. “The men almost always have insanely thick calves like that–even my Uncle Gary Lynn does, and Daddy _did_ before his Death.”

“So, why doesn’t Bobby?” the guitarist queried.

“I honestly wouldn’t know if he does or not since I’ve never seen him in even shorts,” she admitted. “But if he doesn’t, my guess is that he’d have gotten skinnier calves from his mother’s side of the family.”

“Never really paid much attention,” Rob admitted, glancing down at his lower limbs thoughtfully. “Not once I started getting more meat on my bones, that is. But we’ll focus on that later–I’d rather get these idiots thrown out so we can make Sound check on Time.”

Nodding their agreement, the rest of the band followed him and niece out to the front of the stadium they were playing that Night. All five of them ignored the sudden uproar that surrounded them, as well as the security guards keeping the rest of the waiting crowd in check. Their focus was entirely on the much-smaller group that’d been singled out, a couple other guards waiting with them.

The bassist wasn’t surprised to see exactly who he’d thought he’d see waiting on them, including the half-sister he _definitely_ hadn’t wanted to meet. However, _they_ seemed surprised to actually see his niece with him, her mother seeming particularly surprised. Maybe she’d thought her baby brother’d been lying to her at some point in the last couple Days or something.

Crossing his arms as he planted his booted feet at shoulder-width apart, he didn’t particularly care if he looked intimidating or not. He was beyond done with the fame-seekers and Gold-diggers, and he didn’t care if he happened to share blood with a handful. Another thing he didn’t rightly care about was how much of his family’s dirty laundry got aired so publicly, or he’d have had them brought backstage to hash this out. They deserved to be humiliated in front of a crowd, as far as he was concerned–maybe it’d teach them a couple lessons about humility.

“I dunno what your aim is by showing up here, but you’re not welcome,” Rob said, not in the mood to mince words.

“We came down here so we could actually see one of our brother’s shows!” Jason told him, an arm wrapped around each of his daughters.

“Really? Well, color me surprised,” he drawled. “’Cuz I think there’s some ulterior motives there–in fact, I’m willing to bet my left nut on that.”

Bret, Rikki, and CC all snickered behind him, knowing he didn’t make that kinda bet without being absolutely sure he was right.

“Ya see, now thatcha know we regrettably share blood, here’s my theory,” the bassist continued. “Both of ya–a certain woman, in particular–thought I was kidding about not being able to stand those simply looking for hand-outs.”

All their jaws dropped, as did those of the crowd that was close enough to hear him clearly.

“So, ya thought you’d just show up down here, and I’d pay ya a hefty sum to leave me the fuck alone instead of airing this family’s dirty laundry right in front of the venue,” Rob said. “Well, think the fuck again, ’cuz you’re no family of mine beyond that aforementioned regrettably-shared blood.”

Clearly, Jason, Kat, and the rest of their ilk didn’t have the slightest comeback for that.

“Hell, my band mates’ve been more like siblings than you’ll ever Dream of being,” he told them, wrapping his arms around Bret and Rikki, who pulled the shortest blonde into their own grips.

“And if there’s one thing we’re not gonna do, it’s let our brother be taken advantage of, even by his own family,” the drummer proclaimed.

“Not even by his own sister, whom I can’t believe I once called _beautiful,”_ Bret agreed. The sour look on his face as he eyed Kat prolly said more than any of their words combined did.

“That being said, I reiterate–you’re not getting any money from me, nor are ya gonna convince me to letcha in this venue at _any_ point,” the bassist told them. “What I do with Reagan’s my own business, and certainly _not_ open for discussion.”

“Gold-digging lil band whore!” Kat finally spat, shooting her daughter a Death glare.

“Oh, no–I’m pretty sure you’ve that bass-ackwards,” said daughter told her. “’Cuz I’m damn well not the one who fucked a rock star, then took off for parts unknown or let _him_ run off after the deed was done.”

The shocked look that crossed her mother’s face was downright comical to her, but confusing to the men at her side. None of them knew what she could possibly be referring to, but whatever it was, it was clearly something her mother hadn’t wanted known. Still, it appeared that her mother’s expression was bringing out her inner sadist, if the dastardly grin that split her face was anything to judge by.

Mincing no words like she oft did, Reagan made it quite clear that she’d caught her mother in quite a few lies. The one that she was most concerned with at the moment was how she’d lied to her about who her father _really_ was all her Life. She’d always thought something wasn’t quite right with her claim that she was half-Pacific Islander, considering that while she’d pretty Dark tones when it came to her hair and flesh, she’d strikingly blue eyes. But the same _Ancestry DNA_ test that’d led her to finding out she was related to a member of Poison’d led her to another surprising discovery.

It turned out that she was the daughter of Tuomas Holopainen, the keyboardist and main songwriter of the Finnish symphonic Metal band, Nightwish. That meant that instead of being half-Pacific Islander as her mother’d claimed, she was actually half-Finnish. She still hadn’t quite worked out how she’d have even met that Finn, but she’d a few leads she could follow later.

Kat’s jaw dropped even further at realizing that she’d been had on that lie, which made her older half-brother give her yet another dirty look. His opinion of her’d already been pretty low after finding out about the last couple Years of his niece’s Life prior to their meeting. That opinion’d only dropped even lower as she’d walked him through various memories of her childhood that made him realize just how abusive his sister really was. But now, that opinion dropped straight into the Pits of Hell at finding out she’d lied to her about her own Ancestry for so long.

“Ya know, even if I’m now pissed at my own mother for lying about why my father left when I was too young too remember him, at least I can say one thing,” Rob drawled. “She never once lied to me about my Ancestry. She told me there was a lotta Native blood in my veins, but she never knew exactly how much, or exactly what tribes it’d come from.”

Said younger half-sister’s face turned Beet-red, and he didn’t particularly care if it was from Anger, humiliation, or a combination.

“I’ve already said it, but I’ll say it again,” he continued. “I want nothing– _abso-fuckin’-lutely nothing_ –to do with you and your ilk. And that goes for Jason and his branch of the family, too.”

Now, it was said younger half- _brother’s_ turn to turn Beet-red.

“In fact, if I didn’t have shit like vehicular titles, house deeds, utility bills, and credit cardsta update, I’d go so far as to Change my name,” the bassist said. “’Cuz while it might be an Honor to share the name _Robert_ with my late father since that’s one of few pieces of him I’ve got, it’s a disgraceta share it with _you.”_

Even the crowd surrounding them gasped at his words.

“Now, if you’ll kindly fuck off and go fuck yourselves, I’ve a Sound check to get to,” Rob said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Please, allow security to escortcha off the premises, ’cuz if _I_ do it, there’s gonna be a few broken bones, split lips, and black eyes involved.”

Turning on his heel so he could head back into the stadium–and subsequently backstage–he’d his guard up. He knew damn good and well that turning his back on an enemy could be dangerous in any number of ways, but he was more than prepared. Something even his niece didn’t know about him might very well come in handy, but he certainly hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Feeling a hand clamp down on his shoulder before he was whirled back around told the bassist all he needed to know. His younger half-brother didn’t even get a chanceta actually land the blow he swung at his face before he was blocking and deflecting it, then Returning one of his own. But the thing about him was that not only was he a prolific brawler back in the Day on top of that Tennessean fighting Spirit he’d inherited, he was also trained in _Jiu Jitsu,_ thanksta Rikki.

Looming over his younger half-brother like he _wasn’t_ twice his size, Rob tactfully ignored the cacophony of gasps around him. He even ignored hearing his band mates–his drummer, in particular–reassuring Reagan that he damn well knew what he was doing. All he cared about was getting his point across once and for all since this particular part of his family didn’t seem to be listening. It was either that, or they were simply deafer than a Tree trunk and couldn’t hear him to Begin with, which he didn’t think was the case.

“Boy, you’re stupider than I ever woulda thoughtcha were,” he snarled as Jason pushed himself into a sitting position.

“What the fuck was that?” the younger man queried, reaching up to rub his head as if to make sure he wasn’t bleeding.

“Bet you’ll learn not to put your hands on another man without knowing whether he’s a purple belt in _Jiu Jitsu_ or not,” Rob snapped.

His niece’s eyes widened as she processed that particular bit of information, as did the rest of their shared family’s.

“You’re an idiot, if ya think Rikki _wouldn’t_ have taught me at least some of what he knows,” the bassist told him. “Granted, he only needed a sparring partner to practice on, but hell–if it helps keep me safe, I’m game to learn from the Master.”

“Professor, ya ass!” Rikki laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah–make an appointment to suck my left nut, Rockett!” he retorted, his lips quirking into an evil smirk.

“You’re fuckin’ insane!” Jason snapped, finally managing to lever himself up to his feet.

“Sanity’s never been _my_ claim to fame, lil brother,” he said. “In fact, I’d say it’s never been _any_ rock star’s claim to fame.”

Not even his half-sister, nor their _shitster-in-law_ could argue that point.

“But I meant what I said,” Rob growled. “Get lost, and quit holding your hand out to me ’cuz the bestcha can do is trucking.”

He started to argue the point, but quickly thought better of it at the look he gave him.

“You’re seriously pushing it, Jason,” he warned him. “’Cuz before this lil stunt–especially daring to lay a hand on me–I mighta considered trying to getcha hired as our trucker for hauling our gear on the next tour, whenever it happened to be.”

Jason’s jaw dropped as he realized just how royally he’d fucked up.

“Hell, I mighta even considered getting Kat hired as our graphic designer–especially if what Reagan told me about her having a friend who likes making T-shirts and the like is true,” the bassist said. “’Cuz, ya see, whether I like y’all as family or not doesn’t matter–I like supporting small businesses, those honestly trying, and those who’ve a damn good reason for their failure.”

All their heads dropped in shame as he tucked his hair behind his ears.

“But now that you’ve shown me your true Colors, ya can forget me doing anything but kicking your ass the way our father apparently never did and running ya over with your own rig,” Rob swore.

“I’m not even sure if I should ask about myself,” Kat sighed.

“After abusing my niece– _your daughter_ –in various ways her entire Life? Fuck, you’d be lucky, if I didn’t call that one in just so _she_ got Justice,” he snapped. “But she’s not willing to push the envelope there, and I’m too good a man to do it behind her back.”

His younger half-sister looked like she wanted to deny it, but quickly closed her mouth at the look he pinned on her.

“Now, I’ll say it once the fuck again,” the bassist snarled. “Get lost, and don’t bother trying to contact me again. I’ve no Time and Patience for this shit, especially since I wasn’t getting about having a Sound check to get to.”

When he whirled around to head into the venue this Time, nobody tried to stop him, much to his relief. Rob didn’t try to hide how he reached up to grab his side–the same one that’d been affected by that case of shingles earlier in the Year–as he stormed past his band mates. All he wanted wasta get to their dressing room, praying that his estranged family did as he said more than once. He didn’t know if he was about to have a recurrence or not, but he damn well hoped not since he still had nearly an entire tour to get through.


	9. Nine

In the band’s dressing room, Reagan made her uncle strip his torso almost as soon as the door was closed behind them. She knew well enough that being too stressed could very well cause a case of the shingles, and considering that he’d just recovered from such a thing a couple months ago, a recurrence was a very real possibility. Gods only knew that a tour and everything leading up to one was stressful enough–when one added in their family showing up like this, it was a recipe for a Health Disaster on his part.

The trio of blondes were shocked when he couldn’t bite back a pained cry as he did as he was told, knowing she was too stubborn to fight with about it. Actually seeing the Beginnings of a nasty rash wrapping around his right side from the Center of his abdomen to his spine was a totally different ballgame. None of them’d actually seen the rash last Time, ’cuz he’d been so Blessed good about hiding it from them, but it certainly looked painful now.

Heaving a sigh after getting a good look, the young woman said she was heading off to get one of the medics. They’d have to wait till after the show tonight to get him real treatment–even if it meant hauling him into an ER–but maybe the medics’d have something that’d help in the meantime. After all, she knew damn good and well he’d disposed of the remains of his Gabapentin prescription so as not to tempt himself, but clearly, he was gonna need it again. She just hoped that anything the medics had on hand wouldn’t put him outta commission for the Night since he obviously wouldn’t be able to perform while doped up.

“Jesus Christ, man–that _looks_ painful!” Rikki breathed, helping him keep his arm elevated so he wouldn’t brush against it the wrong way.

“Feels like my fuckin’ side’s on Fire again!” Rob groaned. “I dunno how Dad put up with this shit–or boils, for that matter!”

“Wait, whaddaya mean?” the front man queried.

“Reagan said that Kat claimed my dad suffered several bouts of shingles prior to his Death,” he answered. “Apparently, those most at risk of getting it have a close relative who did.”

“And in this case, I’d say your biological father’s a pretty close relative,” CC mused.

“Exactly.” The bassist nodded. “Technically, this shit’s caused by the chickenpox virus, but it’s triggered by something like stress.”

“Which you’ve no doubt been under a lotta ever since Christmas,” he mused.

“Between finding out about Reagan and her side of the family, pre-tour prep, and now the Beginning of the tour itself, fuck yeah,” Rob agreed.

“How long’s it supposed to last?” Bret queried, concern marring his features.

“Three-to-five weeks in most cases, if he’s actually got a case of shingles.”

Turning toward the door, they saw that Reagan’d Returned with one of the medics, just like she said she would. Already pulling on a pair of the gloves in his kit, he made sure his patient didn’t have a latex allergy before he actually touched him as he knelt down. Shaking his head, he said that he’d never had any kinda reaction to latex, or he wouldn’t have been able to use rubbers pretty much since his adolescence.

Careful to keep his touch gentle as he nodded, the medic started with getting his vitals like he would with any other patient. Judging by the baseline his niece gave him, said vitals were a hair elevated, but nothing too unusual. To be quite honest, he was pretty sure the only reason they were elevated was his prior confrontation combined with his current pain.

Even though it obviously hurt like hell, the bassist sat as still as he could and let him give him a proper exam. He wasn’t surprised when he definitively diagnosed a recurrence of shingles, which was a bit of a concern to said medic. According to what he knew, those most likely to have a recurrence were those who’d pain for thirty-plus Days during the initial episode, and those who were over fifty during that Time. It wasn’t looking good for him, considering that he’d been fifty-seven when it first cropped up and still was, and his pain’d definitely lasted thirty-plus Days.

“Fuck me, nekkid and runnin’,” Rob groaned. “Any idea what–besides stress–coulda caused it to crop up again? And I’m not talking those statistics, either.”

“Could be thatcha just need to increase your Vitamin C,” the medic told him.

“I’m from fuckin’ Florida–drinking Orange juice like it’s Water’s in my DNA!” he laughed.

“Guess it’s prolly not that, then unless there’s something else going on.”

“I just won’t be able to take this shit right in the middle of a tour,” the bassist sighed. “It was almost unbearable when we were just rehearsing–ya really think I won’t End up getting hurt, if I can’t sleep ’cuz of the pain and itching when a tour’s already exhausting enough?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he told him. “The best I can do for ya is a painkiller, but that’s gonna leave ya storming the stage in a fog, if ya don’t just fall asleep.”

“Not gonna happen,” Rob said. “Recovering drug addict, so I try not to take shit like that unless I’m fresh outta surgery or something, and I’m definitely _not_ going onstage drugged.”

“Then your best bet’s heading straight for the ER after the show,” the medic recommended. “I can write up a report that’ll help getcha on the right antiviral for this shit, as well as the right treatment for pain, itching, and any other symptoms.”

Nodding his agreement, he supposed he didn’t have very many choices, if he didn’t want his band to have to drop outta the tour so early on. Their next show wasn’t till the one in Cleveland, Ohio on the third, which meant six Days between shows. During that Time, they could see how he responded to any treatments and how he was feeling before that next show. If he was doing well enough, they’d try to carry on till their next break in late-July and hope for the best. On the other hand, if he _wasn’t_ doing well enough by next week, they’d just drop outta the tour and refund their fans’ money instead of trying to push him beyond his limits.

Reagan stepped in to help her uncle get dressed again, knowing she’d the most gentle touch outta all of them. Not only that, but she was used to doing this kinda thing since she’d done it for Years prior to her pappaw’s Death. The rest of the guys seemed surprised at just how gently she treated him, which made both of them laugh as the bassist buttoned his overshirt again once it was on him.

Grinning at the trio of blondes, Rob said that she’d shocked him when she’d forced him into his house and made him strip like this the first Time they met face-to-face. Outta all the things he’d imagined about her, he hadn’t thought she’d have experience in being someone’s caregiver. But learning that she’d been just that to the man who turned out to be his father’d been the catalyst that convinced him to just listen to her. The kinda pain he was in was simply too much to be his normal stubborn Self and put up a fight over, if he were completely honest.

With a game plan worked out for at least the next week, Poison headed off to get their Sound check outta the way on the grounds that they’d let her know, if a musician switch needed to be made. In the meantime, the young woman worked on getting in touch with her cousinsta let them know what was going on with their dad so they were kept in the loop.

By the following Frigga’s Day, Rob was still in quite a bit of pain, but that wasta be expected with a case of the shingles. None of his band mates blamed him for being an ornery bastard more often than he wasn’t, considering how much trouble he had with sleeping. It seemed like every Time he’d fall asleep, he’d be woken up again by a searing pain all along the path of that rash. Otherwise, it was by a sudden itch that he tried to scratch in his sleep, which set off the pain that he hadn’t been feeling before that.

It was decided following that show in Cleveland that they were better off dropping outta the tour, rather than trying to continue. Their bassist was clearly in no shape to perform since he couldn’t sleep most of the Time, which wouldn’t help him on his road to recovery. All they could do was refund their fans’ money, or reschedule the cancelled dates for another Time later on.

All of them were disappointed to have to make that announcement, but none more so than the man who was suffering so much. He’d been looking forward to this tour, both due to its original postponement _and_ all the upheaval in his personal Life. Getting back out on the road seemed like a sign that his Life was on the verge of settling down till that fateful detour in North Carolina, so this was a bit depressing for him.

“I know, man,” Bret was saying as they chilled backstage after that show. “Trust me, aside from the _finding-my-long-lost-dad_ angle, I get how ya feel.”

“Yeah, ’cuz I’m sure you’ve gone through this before with just your diabetes, alone,” Rob agreed on a sigh.

“More often than I’d like to admit,” he told him, nodding. “And that shit from ten Years ago just made it even worse.”

“Don’tcha mean eleven?” the bassist chuckled.

“Yeah, that,” Bret laughed, easily figuring out that he was teasing him about getting old for sake of his own Sanity. “Getting whacked in the head by stage rigging and a brain bleed’s no joke on one’s memory, man!”

“I’m sure.” He couldn’t help another sigh. “I mean, there’re Days that I’ve to write down stupid-simple shit, or I’ll forget it–and I _didn’t_ have either of those things happen to me.”

“Sucks getting old, don’t it?” the front man snickered.

“Hey, you’re almost a Year older than me, asshat!” Rob retorted.

“If it gets ya to laugh, considering how this last week’s gone.” He simply grinned at his friend. “God knows I’d rather hear ya laughing instead of sighing like somebody just toldja your dick was gonna fall off.”

“I think I’d be doing a lil more than sighing, if I ever got told that,” the bassist dead-panned.

Bret couldn’t help another laugh as he pointed out that he knew damn good and well what he meant, which got him to grin again. Even the other blondes didn’t like seeing him so upset, and over something he couldn’t really help, to boot. There mighta been a few waysta prevent something like this, but it wasn’t like they were all invincible robots or anything of the sort. Getting sick was just part of being human, and they all understood that, especially after some of their collective Health crises over the Years.

It wasn’t long before they were all heading over to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport, which was fifteen miles away. While even Rikki and CC were heading back to LAX–which was technically outside Inglewood–Rob was heading to MCO in Orlando. That was the closest airport to his home, and he really just wanted to get to that particular structure right now.

After boarding his flight home, he made sure to get in touch with Zak about picking him up after he’d landed. Luckily for him, his son said that he’d the Day off work the next Day, so staying up a few hours later than normal wouldn’t be a problem for him. However, he was more than a bit disturbed to find out why Poison’d cancelled their remaining tour dates, although they were still in debate over whether to refund or reschedule. He’d seen what he’d gone through for the first week during his first bout of shingles, and he was definitely worried about him, especially after being told _when_ it’d cropped up this Time.

Reassuring his son that he’d already sought out treatment and–other than being more exhausted than normal for this point in a tour–the bassist settled into his seat for the flight home. He just hoped he could finally get a lil bit of rest during said flight, and that he wouldn’t wind up in the hospital for more than an ER visit ’cuz of this shit. Thankfully, he’d three other people living with him that’d make sure he was all right, even if he _did_ wind up in the hospital for a while.


	10. Ten

_“Vittu, en halua sinun pirun rahaa!”_

Rob’s eyes widened as he finally walked through his front door, only to hear a barrage of what was obviously a foreign language. Well, maybe _barrage_ wasn’t exactly the right word for it–it sounded like a single sentence, after all. But what was so surprising was that it wasn’t just a foreign phrase, but his niece who was using whatever language it was.

After taking his bags into his bedroom–which was on the other side of the stairs from the front door–he headed to the kitchen to investigate what he’d heard. Sure enough, his niece stood on the side of the island that put her standing next to the sink, where she could easily slap the Granite countertop, if she wanted to. Judging by the look on her face, she was pretty agitated, which he’d figured out just by hearing her tone. But from the sounds of it, whoever she was clearly on the phone with was just as agitated, for whatever reason.

_“Kuinka voin uskoa sinua?”_ an obviously male voice retorted. _“En ole koskaan kuullut sinusta elämässäni, mutta olet vain pop up ja väittävät olevansa tyttäreni!”_

_“Luota minuun, saan, että olet pöyristynyt_ – _käyttäydyt kuin en ole,”_ Reagan said, sounding exasperated. _“Mutta se ei tarkoita, että olen Kullankaivaja, hitto se!”_

_“Suoleni kertoo minulle toisin,”_ the man dead-panned.

_“Tiedätkö mitä? Vittu sinä, vittu suolesi, ja vittu rahasi!”_ she snapped. _“Minulla sattuu olemaan setä joka olisi laittanut maailman hopealevylle jaloihini, jos antaisin hänen, mutta en ole pyytänyt häneltä paskaa.”_

Rob was as bewildered and he was sure whoever she was talking to was, but he somehow got the feeling she was talking about him, based on how her gaze momentarily flicked over to him.

_“Olen elänyt elämäni hienosti ilman isän rakkaus, ja voin pitää tehdä että nyt,”_ his niece continued. _“Luulen ettemme voi kaikki olla niin kuin hyväksyvämpiä kohti kauan-kadoksissa perheenjäsenet, voimmeko?”_

Rolling her eyes as the man started to respond, Reagan tapped the screen of her phone, the telltale _click!_ signaling that she’d hung up on him. As she laid her phone back down on the counter and turned to face the pair of men staring at her with gaping mouths, she ran her fingers through her hair. She’d known that such a phone call was gonna be a long shot on her part, but she hadn’t thought it’d go quite _that_ horrendously.

It was the bassist who finally found his voice first, his comment being that he hadn’t known she could speak any other languages. Laughing, she told him that she was chock full of surprises, ’cuz what she’d been speaking and English weren’t the only languages she was pretty good with, if not completely fluent in.

The young woman couldn’t help a grin as she said that she’d been speaking Finnish when they walked in, and with damn good reason. Rob’s eyes widened as he realized that she musta finally gotten in touch with her own biological father, and from the sounds of things, it hadn’t gone very well. He remembered her accusation toward her mother at the Orlando show, and how it’d been about her telling her that she was half-Pacific Islander, rather than half-Finnish all her Life. It certainly made sense as to why she’d pick that particular language to learn, though, for sure.

“So, what on Earth sparked _that_ kinda phone call?” Zak queried. “’Cuz from what I heard, it wasn’t a good one.”

“The long and short of it, my mother– _your aunt_ –lied to me about my Ancestry my entire Life,” Reagan told him. “Said I was half-Pacific Islander when I’m really half-Finnish, kinda lied.”

“Fuck–yeah, I’d be pretty pissed about that, too,” he agreed, unable to help a wince.

“Seemed like your dad agreed when he found out at the Orlando show, too,” the young woman said.

“Wait, ya knew about this, Dad?” The young man turned a surprised look on said dad.

“Not till then, no–and I didn’t know she could speak Finnish till now, before ya ask,” Rob chuckled.

“Anywhore, after that _Ancestry DNA_ test led me straight to my dad–which was why I even bothered with such a thing, not to find out I’m related to yours–I started trying to find contact info,” she continued. “Not exactly easy with yet another rock star, but I kinda figured that was gonna happen.”

“Wait, which rock star?” her cousin queried, his surprise only growing.

“Remember that symphonic Metal band I gotcha into, Nightwish?” Reagan countered with a grin.

“Oh, no fuckin’ way!” he cackled.

“Seriously, man.” Her grin only grew from there. “Turns out their keyboardist and main songwriter, Tuomas Holopainen, is _my_ father.”

“I’m kinda curious as to how Kat coulda ever gotten her claws into a Finn, though,” the bassist mused.

As it turned out, Tuomas Holopainen’d come to the US as a foreign exchange student at the tender age of fifteen. His host family’d lived just down the road from where her mother’d lived most of her Life at that point, which’d put him in pretty close proximity to her. Despite his being painfully shy–which he admitted to, even now–he’d somehow wound up in her company at one point or another, or his niece clearly wouldn’t exist.

Considering that his birthday wasn’t till Christmas Day–and she wasn’t joking when she said that–Reagan wasn’t entirely sure of the Timing of his foreign exchange student program. It was entirely possible that he’d come over here immediately after turning fifteen, but it was also just as likely that he hadn’t come till a few months before his sixteenth birthday.

Rob nodded as he and his own son continued listening, neither of them really surprised that she swore she’d been conceived in January of 1993. Even without her heading into her room long enough to grab something that offered more proof than anything else, they coulda figured that out. She was born in mid-October, and both of them were smart enough to know that to be born then, if she was on Time, she’d have to be conceived sometime in January. Still, they weren’t expecting her to Return with a calendar from the Year of her Birth, which she promptly flipped open to the second page.

“See, Kat’s marked January eleventh as the Day she conceived,” the young woman said, pointing to the date in question. “That’s exactly thirty-nine weeks before my due date since she numbered shit wrong, that due date being October eleventh.”

“Which means thatcha were three Days overdue,” her uncle chuckled.

“No, technically four Days _early,”_ Reagan corrected him. “If she’d numbered this right–as in, put the one down here when she put two–my due date shoulda been October _eighteenth.”_

“That’s assuming she actually conceived on January eleventh, not a Day or two before _or_ after that,” Zak mused.

“True enough,” she agreed, nodding. “Now, her conceiving me then clearly says that Tuomas was in the US at that Time, ’cuz I’ve searched everywhere I can think of, and there’s no records of Kat _ever_ Traveling outside the US, not even to Canada.”

“Means she couldn’t have possibly been in Finland, conceived there, and come back for the wedding that’s marked here on the seventeenth,” the bassist mused as he pointed out what he meant.

“Exactly. Now, how on Earth she coulda gotten involved with a sixteen-Year-old and _not_ known it, I dunno.” Reagan closed the calendar she’d brought outta her room. “She’s always been such a stickler about abiding the law that I still haven’t figured that one out.”

“Wait, how old would _she’ve_ been at the Time?” her cousin queried.

“Twenty-one, ’cuz she didn’t turn twenty-two till July of that Year,” she answered.

“Damn, that means she’d have been fuckin’ a minor–and prolly one who didn’t even know what he liked in a woman yet,” the younger man winced.

“Who the hell’re you fuckin’, son? The kid prolly _barely_ had hair on his nuts at that age!” Rob laughed.

“Well, the current age of consent in North Carolina’s sixteen–Florida’s one where it’s eighteen, as of right now,” the young woman told them. “Doesn’t mean it was back in the mid-nineties, though.”

Going by the current laws on the subject that didn’t pertain to anything teacher-student or the like, sex with a person under the age of sixteen was prohibited in the State of North Carolina unless the defendant was less than four Years older than their partner. The only exception to that was if said partners were married, ’cuz outside holy matrimony, it was categorized as statutory rape or sexual offense of a minor.

A defendant was said to be guilty of a Class-B1 felony, if they’d sex with a party that was thirteen, fourteen, or fifteen outside the bounds of holy matrimony, if they were at least _six_ Years older. In the case of being more than four, but _less_ than six Years older, the person’d be guilty of a Class C felony, if they engaged in such _extra curricular activities_ with a minor of those ages outside the bounds of holy matrimony. Were the laws similar or identical back at the Time she was conceived, Kat woulda gotten into a metric fuck-ton of trouble, had anyone found out. But she suspected that was part of why she and her first husband had gone to South Carolina and eloped when they did.

Even Zak couldn’t deny that she’d a point, that running off to elope within a week of cheating on one’s partner’d certainly be a good way to hide a pregnancy. How the man she claimed to be his cousin’s father hadn’t figured out the Truth once she was born, he couldn’t fathom, though. It was obvious that she’d inherited Tuomas’ blue eyes, considering that they’d been shown pictures of the man she said was her mother’s first husband. The man was about as Dark-toned as it got–even Darker than _his_ dad–so there was no way she’d have gotten blue eyes from him.

Reagan chuckled as she nodded her agreement, saying that it was definitely true that she’d have gotten Dagger’s Darker tones as opposed to Kat’s Light-brown hair and hazel eyes, if he were her father. Her expression then soured before she sighed and told them that it didn’t really matter to her _where_ she’d gotten certain features from. Clearly, her Birth father thought she was a lying, Gold-digging tramp out to get his money for an easier Life. His being the source of her blue eyes didn’t matter since he didn’t want anything to do with her, which was fine with her–she’d never known a father’s Love, and it didn’t really make a difference now.

“And I told him as much right in front of y’all,” the young woman sighed. “Y’all just couldn’t understand me since I was speaking Finnish when I did.”

“Seriously?” her cousin chuckled.

“I told him that I didn’t want his damn money, and Naturally, he acted skeptical about it,” she answered with a nod.

“Well, I kinda don’t blame him,” Rob admitted. “I almost thought the same thing aboutcha at first–thatcha were just after my money, I mean.”

“Difference is, _you_ actually got to know me for who I am,” Reagan told him. “Granted, that’s still a work-in-progress since I’ve so many different facetsta my personality–not that you’re any different, if we’re honest.”

“True enough,” he agreed.

“But I flat-out told him to fuck himself, fuck his gut instinct, and fuck his money,” the young woman said. “If I wanted that kinda shit, I’ve an uncle who’d gladly lay the World on a Silver platter at my feet and then some.”

“’Cuz I _would,”_ the bassist told her. “Soundsta me like you’ve had a harder Life than I ever had growing up, and if it meant seeing ya happy–and I mean _truly_ happy–for once…”

“Only reason ya don’t is ’cuz I won’t letcha,” she chuckled. “So, if I won’t let the one celebrity relation who’d gladly do it as is spoil me stupid, why am I gonna go begging the other to?”

“Fair enough.” Zak nodded approvingly. “But of course, _your_ dad doesn’t see it like that.”

“And worse yet, refusesta get to know me.” Reagan scowled. “Suits the fuck outta me, though–that kinda person’s nothing but toxic, and I’ve had enough of toxic people.”

“What wouldja do, though, if he Changed his mind and just showed up here?” he queried.

Shrugging, she said that she honestly wasn’t sure, ’cuz there were two different sides of her who were currently at War with one another. One was basically her inner child, who just wanted Daddy to both cuddle _and_ coddle her to Death and beyond. Then there was the grown, Independent woman too stubborn to truly rely on _anyone_ but herself unless she’d no other choices, who just wanted to give him a good kick in the britches and send him on his way.

As he reached up to stroke the beard he’d let grow back out a bit, Rob pondered his niece’s words, knowing all too well how she felt. If his own father weren’t dead, he’d no doubt that there’d be a part of him who wanted to hug him while the other’d wanna lay him out. That made him think that if that were the case, he’d prolly beg his friendsta hold him back before he did something stupid that he’d live to regret.

Looking her dead in the eye, he all but made a deal with her right there on the spot in regardsta the matter. He and Zak’d hold her back since they’d prolly be the only ones strong enough to manage it, but if she did manage to hit him, they’d make sure she didn’t get charged with anything for it.

Reagan looked thoughtful as she pondered that, knowing that her uncle’s Influence with the cops’d go a long way. If she were being honest, it’d prolly go a lot further with the local authorities than her father could ever Dream of having his go. He’d no doubt be able to get her outta legal trouble a lot quicker and easier, if that became necessary, than Tuomas’d have with getting her _in_ trouble in the first place. Nodding her agreement, she said that she didn’t think such a scenario’d arise, based on his tone the entire phone call. She knew such a thing could still happen, and she was glad they’d her back–she just hoped she wouldn’t need them like that.


	11. Eleven

A week after cancelling more than half of Poison’s part in the _Stadium Tour,_ Rob was lugging an obviously old box outta his attic. It’d taken him that long to not only feel physically up to such a task, but to shore up the nerve to actually do it. The box in question was the one he’d been talking about that was most likely to contain anything like an old marriage certificate, or even divorce paperwork, that’d prove his parents’d once been married.

There was still a part of him that felt dubious about going through his mother’s old paperwork and belongings. But he knew that if he didn’t, he’d never get the kinda answers that Reagan’d gotten when it came to not only who his father was, but whether he’d been a legitimate child or not. Course, he supposed that technically being a bastard child still wouldn’t be that bad, as long as he’d been borne of a loving relationship. If his mother’d been trapped in something toxic that she’d used his father’s deployment as a way to escape…

Heaving an anxious sigh, the bassist set the box down on the counter of the bar in the bonus room he’d honestly thought about converting into a massive master suite. Without taking a second look at the box just yet, he crossed the room to the top of the stairs, where he called down to his niece since he knew she was awake.

Moments later, Reagan joined him with a grimace, grumbling as she rubbed her knees and swore that she didn’t get along with stairs any more than _they_ got along with _her_. Chuckling under his breath, he told her that if this box weren’t so Blessed heavy, he’d have just brought it downstairs. As it stood, it was heavy enough to pull on his neck weird, which was sure to make it act up later, if he carried it for too long. He figured it was prolly better to call her upstairs, even with her arthritis, than to try lugging it around too much with his spinal problems. She was quick to nod her agreement, knowing that fuckin’ up his neck again could be dangerous for him.

“So, we’re looking for _just_ marriage certificates and/or divorce paperwork, right?” the young woman queried.

“Those in particular, but I’ll take even diary entries at this point,” Rob answered, nodding. “I mean, I’m not really one of those guys who cares about legitimate versus illegitimate–I’d rather just know that I was a result of a loving relationship instead of an abusive one.”

“Well, unless he didn’t become a drunk till _after_ he was drafted, I’m not so sure that’s gonna be the case with your dad being Bob White,” she sighed. “I mean, I toldja that Papa Ples was said to be a drunk, and Papa Ike definitely was. All the stories I’ve ever heard paint Daddy and the vast majority of his brothers out to be drunks, drug addicts, or both.”

“I’m not so sure I wanna know about the _drug addicts_ part,” the bassist admitted.

“Pot, coke, smack–those were the main ones I’ve always heard about,” Reagan told him.

“Damn, no Wonder I turned into a drunken coke-head back in the Day,” he sighed. “I was already predisposed to it, even _without_ going into the profession that I chose.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” The young woman nodded as he pulled the lid off that old box. “But there’s one thing thatcha can say that folks like Uncle Harold and Uncle Ted never could.”

“And what’s that?” Rob queried, cocking a brow curiously.

“Ya got cleaned up before it was too late, if only for your kids’ sake,” she answered.

“Yeah, I can definitely say that it _didn’t_ some how result in my Death,” the bassist agreed. “But who the hell were _Uncle Harold_ and _Uncle Ted?”_

Laughing as they started pulling out the contents of the box they were Intent on going through, Reagan said that Harold and Ted were two of her pappaw’s brothers. From what she’d found out while piecing together her own family Tree, Harold was born in 1941, which sounded about right to her. She coulda sworn he’d two older brothers–Harold and another who was the oldest of the pack, James–but all the other brothers’d been younger than him. It was hard to remember who’d been born when, ’cuz there were so Blessed many of them, though.

Unfortunately, Harold had been dead since before she was born herself, killed in a drug-related shoot-out. According to everything she’d ever heard about him, he’d been big into pot, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to find out he’d been into more illicit shit. Even if he hadn’t been, he’d been killed when somebody’d started shooting at his truck, sending it careening off the road.

Rob couldn’t help a wince at the Thought, but he certainly wasn’t expecting the story to get even worse. Again, according to everything his niece’d ever heard, Uncle Ted was also heavily into the drug world. That’d led to him getting pushed off a Bridge out in Durham, where he’d broken his neck and been permanently disabled. In fact, the first and last Time she’d ever seen him with her own two eyes, he’d been wheelchair-bound due to his injuries. Not only that, but his hands were curled into permanent fists from refusing to do his physical therapy like he was told, and he’d a glass eye.

“Yeesh, sounds like quite the bunch,” he chuckled.

“Oh, they were definitely a handful and a-half, to hear some of the stories,” Reagan laughed. “Course, with ten boys and only one girl, that’s kinda to be expected.”

“Wait, who’s the one girl?” the bassist queried.

“That’d be Aint Laura,” she answered. “She was the only other sibling born before Daddy–like I said before, all the rest were younger than him.”

“Ya know if she’s still alive?” Rob couldn’t help his Curiosity as he opened the first file folder. “Or is she another one of those White siblings that’s dead?”

“Still trying to get in touch with Gary Lynn so I can find out.” The young woman shook her head sadly. “I got a hit on _Ancestry_ when I was piecing my Tree together that suggests she is, and I wouldn’t be surprised, but I dunno for sure.”

“So, why get in touch with this Gary Lynn about it?” He cocked a brow curiously.

“’Cuz he was one of those who actually kept in touch with her that I could even halfway stand,” Reagan told him. “From what I remember of him, he was a younger version of Daddy, sans drinking and drugging.”

“Sounds kinda like me now,” the bassist chuckled.

“Well, when ya don’t count that you’re his son, Gary Lynn’s his youngest brother,” she reminded him. “The funny part’s that–unless I did my math wrong based on his appearance the last Time I saw him at Daddy’s funeral–you’re about the same age as him.”

Rob couldn’t help bursting into laughter at the Thought that he’d an uncle that was practically the same age as he was. He was more used to aunts and uncles being a generation older than their nieces and nephews, not spaced out more like the family of Duff McKagan. Then again, if his parents’d been such prolific breeders, but interrupted by at least one War–well, it stood to reason that their kids might be a lil more spread-out than he’d first imagined.

But as curious as he was about that side of his family still, the bassist was equally curious about what’d been amongst his mother’s belongings, maybe more so. He was all but dying to know the answersta whether his parents’d ever been married or not, and that was what made him readjust his glasses and look down.

Leafing through various papers, both uncle and niece fell Silent as they carefully read over each one. They’d decided that teaming up and going through roughly half the box each’d serve them better than trying to go at it alone. Even if he _hadn’t_ been recovering from his second bout of shingles, it wouldn’t take as long, if they did it that way. Not only that, but neither’d get overloaded on random information as they sorted through what was relevant and what wasn’t. It was certainly better than the alternative, which’s why he’d agreed to that plan as readily as he had.

“Ah, ha!” Reagan slapped the counter next to her triumphantly, which startled him outta his reading.

“What is it?” he queried, laying down what he’d been reading over.

_“Certificate of Marriage,”_ the young woman read, sliding the piece of paper she held between them so he could see it.

_“This is to certify that I have, this Day, joined in marriage Mr. Robert Howard White of Jacksonville, State of Florida, and Ms. Lynda Marie Kuykendall of Melbourne, State of Florida according to the laws of the State of Florida,”_ Rob read, his eyes growing wider with every word.

“Look at the date, though,” his niece told him, pointing to a line at the very bottom next to the officiant’s signature.

“July tenth, 1960,” the bassist breathed. “Jesus Christ alive, that’s all but nine monthsta the very Day before Butch was born!”

Reagan cocked a brow at him, considering she’d never asked about his older siblings’ birthdays.

“Butch was born on April eighteenth, 1961–Patty was born on August twenty-eighth, 1962,” he informed her, which made _her_ eyes widen.

“Then _you_ were born on November second, 1963,” the young woman said.

“Which means they were married the whole Time,” Rob said, nodding. “There’s gotta be divorce paperwork in here somewhere, ’cuz I doubt he was a stereotypical country bumpkin.”

“If ya mean that he wasn’t stupid enough to commit bigamy–at least, not knowingly–you’d be right,” she told him. “If there was one thing Bob White _wasn’t,_ it was stupid–the man’d more common sense than five peoples’ big toes put together.”

“Definitely gotta be divorce paperwork in here somewhere, then,” the bassist reiterated. “’Cuz if he’d that much common sense, he’d to know that he’d get caught committing bigamy sooner or later.”

Nodding her agreement, Reagan started leafing through more of the paperwork from her stack while he turned his attention back to his own. Even she felt like they might just be on the verge of the breakthrough they were both hoping for, now that she’d dug up that old marriage certificate. She just didn’t wanna tell her uncle so and get his Hopes up, only for them to be at least temporarily dashed, if they _didn’t_ find such paperwork.

Sure enough, near the bottom of the stack said uncle was going through, there was a sheaf of paperwork that quickly caught his attention. After reading through the first couple pages, Rob realized that it was the very set of documents he’d been seeking. Part of him couldn’t help wanting to burn them, if only ’cuz he didn’t wanna face the Truth they held within.

Dated for December of 1965, they proved that Lynda’d filed for divorce _after_ his father’d been drafted into the Vietnam War. No doubt Bob’d all but been torn apart upon being served with his copy while he was overseas, unless that hadn’t happened till he’d come back for a short visit. Either way, he could see that leading any man down a Dark Path of drugs and booze–he knew he’d have been pretty torn up, if his own ex-wife’d left him while he was away serving a tour of duty in the military like that.

“I just–fuck, I can’t believe that Mama never told any of us,” he said, getting up to punch the wall on the back side of the bar.

His niece wasn’t quite sure what to say, so she simply kept her mouth shut.

“For the Love of God, Patty went to her grave with these same questions!” the bassist railed as he landed another solid blow. “Not only did she never get to meet him, but she never got answers she was desperate for all her Life!”

“Oh, but I _did,_ baby brother.”

Startled, Rob and Reagan both whirled to face the doors that led to a sizeable balcony, both their jaws dropping.

“P-Patty?” he breathed, not wanting to believe his aging eyes.

“Daddy!” the young woman cried, her voice holding a mixture of Happiness and sadness.

“Hey there, puddin’ cup.” What was obviously the Spirit of Bob White grinned, his thick, country drawl even thicker than his granddaughter’s.

“Wait, _Daddy?”_ This was asked by the Spirit standing next to him.

“I toldja, girl–I was practically Kelsi’s daddy when she was a youngin,” he laughed.

“It’s Reagan now,” she corrected him. “Uncle Rob helped me Change my name after I moved down here to Florida, ’cuz I couldn’t stand those other fuckers I regrettably share blood with.”

“Considering how they’ve acted ever since I passed, I don’t blame ya,” Bob told her. “It’s a disgraceta share blood _and_ my name with ’em.”

“Now, that’s just fucked-up,” the bassist chuckled. “But I’m just glad that my sister apparently got the answers she’d been looking for all her Life, even if it took a post-mortem reunion to do it.”

Joining them at the bar so she could hug the younger brother she’d grown up with and introduce herself to her niece, Patty nodded. As she settled on the bar stool he’d vacated, she admitted that he was right about her taking those questionsta her grave when her when she’d passed in 2011. To have a man walk up to her on the other side of the Veil three Years later, engulf her in a hug, and tell her that he was so glad to see his baby girl again’d come as a bit of a shock.

During the ensuing six Years, Bob’d introduced her to the brothers that’d passed and he’d been reunited with. Some he hadn’t yet found, ’cuz they were hanging out in other places, but there were a couple he just didn’t care to be around, even in Death. A few–such as Jr. and Gary Lynn–were still alive, so he couldn’t really formally introduce her to them.

Leaning against the wall his middle son’d been punching, Bob explained all that he remembered from his Youth. He’d made no bones when Reagan was young that he’d run away from home at the tender age of thirteen to move in with his Aint Eva and Uncle Welcome in North Carolina. But he’d never once mentioned having moved to Florida for a while before he was drafted to escape his brothers, and their attemptsta get him hooked on illicit drugs. Not even the widow he’d left behind, nor the children he’d sired with her’d ever known about his previous family, ’cuz it was too painful to talk about.

Following his draft notice, he’d shipped out to Vietnam to serve in the War that was prolly one of, if not _the_ most controversial in US history. He hadn’t even been overseas for six months when he’d been called into his CO’s office, and he’d honestly thought he was in trouble. To get served with divorce papers’d come as an even bigger shock than being reunited with his older daughter wasta Patty, and he’d Changed as a man. It was that event that’d led him to drinking heavily even more than the shit he’d to witness overseas on _either_ tour of duty.

“Can’t really say as I blame ya and be telling the Truth,” Reagan sighed. “I don’t think I _ever_ saw ya cry when I was lil, but even I can tell you’re tearing up now.”

A closer inspection of the Spirit’s Jade-green eyes proved that she was right, much to his middle son’s surprise.

“I regretted not going back and at least fighting for visitation,” he admitted. “But I knew that my drinking woulda gotten such a petition denied in a heartbeat.”

“So, why not try once you’d gotten dried out?” Rob queried. “’Cuz God knows I woulda when it comesta _my_ kids, if I’d been in those shoes.”

“I didn’t get _dried out,_ as ya put it, till around the Time my own daddy passed in ’77, son,” the Spirit told him. “By then, you’d have forgotten who I was–prolly wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me, if we’re honest.”

He couldn’t help a wince, even though he knew that much was true since he’d have been a thirteen- or fourteen-Year-old brat back then.

“I figured it was just better to leave y’all alone and hope we were reunited in Death like Patty and I were,” Bob continued. “At least then, I wouldn’t be disrupting any Happiness you’d managed to grow up with, if nothin’ else.”

“Well, I can’t exactly say it was _all_ Rainbows and Sunshine,” the bassist admitted. “Fuck, I started drinking and smoking both when I was around fifteen, partly to numb the pain of not knowing who my dad was.”

“Boy, if there’s one thing I’d like to knock your head of for, it’s that shit,” he chuckled. “Butcha got yourself cleaned up and straightened out before ya lost the best thingsta ever happen to ya, and that’s the part I’m proud of.”

Rob couldn’t help choking up at hearing that his father was actually proud of him, even if it was for turning his Life around while he still could.

“You’ve done so much more with your Life than I coulda ever hoped for when ya were born,” the Spirit said, reaching up to tuck his hair behind his ears. “Sure, I think ya look better with a man’s haircut, but who cares about that shit? You’re my boy, and I love ya all the same.”

He was surprised at how solid his father’s touch felt, even more so when he grabbed him for a Bear-hug the likes of which he’d never experienced before. “I love you, too…Dad.”

Neither Reagan, nor Patty could help the grins that split their faces as he eagerly Returned the hug, his head craning just enough to rest on his father’s. Both of them thought he looked even more boyish than he ever had when he was younger, whether they were basing that opinion on actual memories of him or merely pictures they’d seen. That was prolly ’cuz he simply looked like the lil boy who’d never gotten to hug and cuddle with his daddy back when he _was_ a lil boy, despite the tears now rolling down his cheeks.

When they parted, Bob reached up to wipe away those very same tears as he said that–for the moment–it was Time for him and his sister to go. Even though his older daughter stayed behind by choice, he was stuck here till the ashes taken from his urn were Returned, which was prolly never gonna happen. However, he still needed to recharge every once in a while, so even though he was leaving, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be back sooner or later.

Rob couldn’t help but feel like a part of his heart was being torn out all over again, but he still nodded his Understanding as his sister moved to give him a hug of her own. He didn’t want his father to leave since he’d only just met him, as far as he was concerned, but he got what he was saying. The way he looked at it, his leaving for right now was akin to heading off to take a nap, for lack of a better way to put it. Said Spirit let out a raucous laugh when he said that, agreeing that recharging his Spiritual batteries kinda _was_ like taking a nap back when he was still alive and able to walk this Plane.

As the siblings shared their first hug since Patty’s Death, the young woman moved to give her pappaw the first _real_ hug she’d given him in a long Time. To her, it didn’t feel any different than when he was still alive, even though she knew he really wasn’t. Once they’d parted, the pair of Spirits slowly disappeared from physical sight, but they certainly weren’t forgotten.


	12. Twelve

When he managed to get in touch with his older brother later that Eve, Rob couldn’t help a lil bit of Anxiety on his part. He wasn’t sure how much said brother remembered of his earliest Years, and therefore whether he ever knew their parents’d been married or not. If he didn’t remember such a thing, he didn’t wanna shock him _too_ much by telling him about the paperwork he and their niece’d found amongst their mother’s belongings.

Naturally, Don was curious about his baby brother’s behavior since he knew such Anxiety was outta character for him. He was caught a bit off-guard when he asked him what he remembered about the Time before their father seemingly vanished into thin Air, but still felt that Honesty was the best policy.

Unbelievably, the ginger vividly recalled their father playing with him out in the yard, mostly pretending they were digging to China in his sandbox. And the man’d absolutely doted on Patty as if she were a Princess, almost always giving in rather quickly when he’d make a run to the store and she’d beg for even a piece of candy. However, he also recalled that if he’d seemed to have a favorite outta the three of them, it was definitely his younger son.

_“I mean, maybe that was just ’cuz ya were a diaper-dirtying lil rugrat back then,”_ he chuckled.

“It mighta been,” Rob agreed with a chuckle of his own. “God knows I kinda did that with Zoe when she was still in diapers, and Zak all but hated me for it for the first couple Years.”

_“Kid’s long since grown outta that, though, I’ll give him that,”_ his brother said.

“Yeah, just like you and Patty eventually grew outta hating _me_ for our parents giving me the preferential treatment,” the bassist agreed.

_“So, what on Earth madeja ask me that kinda shit?”_ Don queried, cocking a brow curiously as he looked at his webcam.

“I started going through an old box of Mama’s that wound up given to me after she passed,” he sighed. “I mean, ya know I’ve been trying to piece together our family Tree since I got that _Ancestry DNA_ kit.”

_“Yeah, I know that.”_ The ginger nodded. _“I’m guessing ya were asking about my earliest memories ’cuz of something ya found in that box?”_

“Yeah, I was, ’cuz I didn’t wanna shock ya _too_ badly,” Rob answered.

_“Lay it on me, then,”_ he told him. _“’Cuz I’m afraid I don’t remember much beyond that, other than all of us seeming pretty happy.”_

“Turns out that our parents _were_ married back then,” the bassist said. “They got married in Jacksonville almost nine monthsta the Day before _you_ were born.”

Don’s shocked look woulda been comical, if the topic hadn’t been so serious.

“Yeah, I was pretty surprised, myself when Reagan found that marriage certificate and showed it to me,” he chuckled.

Grabbing said piece of old paper off the desk beside him, Rob read it to his brother word-for-word, leaving nothing out. Said ginger was stunned since he didn’t recall his mother ever wearing a wedding ring before their father left. As far as he knew, she certainly hadn’t kept such a piece of jewelry afterward, not even in the depths of an old jewelry box.

The bassist wasn’t surprised to hear him say that, ’cuz according to their niece, Bob’d grown up in a relatively poor family. No doubt that’d been due to being one of ten children–one of which’d actually passed as an infant, according to said niece. But considering that their father woulda been a tender fifteen Years old, due to turn sixteen in October of the Year he’d gotten married the very first Time, he prolly wouldn’t have had any money at all. Maybe that was why his parents’d married in the first place–as a means for their father to even survive.

Don looked thoughtful as he pondered that idea, soon agreeing that that very well mighta been the case. Unlike now, when society didn’t exactly frown upon folks simply being in a domestic partnership or roommates of opposing genders, things were different back then. Moving in together for any reason while unwed woulda started a lotta trouble in places where there shouldn’t have been any, and marriage woulda stopped that.

When the bassist sighed and admitted that he didn’t think things’d _stayed_ so cold and platonic, his brother cocked a brow at him. Hearing that both their father _and_ only full-blooded sister’d paid him a post-mortem visit was definitely a surprise. But he was even more surprised when he was told that even Reagan’d seen the tears in the eyes of their father’s Spirit as he talked about when he was served with those divorce papers. Those tears were indicative of some seriously strong Emotions, especially if he hadn’t been the crying type of man prior to his Death like she claimed he was.

“I honestly think that–even if it wasn’t so at first–Dad genuinely loved Mama as much as he loved us, kids,” Rob said.

_“If he really_ wasn’t _the crying type, but he was tearing up when he visited you…”_ the ginger trailed off.

“Kinda makes me wonder if _Mama_ ever loved _him_ in Return,” he admitted. “Or if it was unrequited, and that just made the divorce hurt even worse for him.”

_“Yeah, I can see that.”_ Don nodded. _“Thinking your spouse lovedja, only to find out how lil they really didn’t when they filed for divorce_ – _and while ya were on a tour of duty, to boot.”_

“Almost sounds like the End of mine and Mishy’s marriage, if I’m honest,” the bassist chuckled. “Granted, _I_ was the one to file for divorce from _her,_ but still–I spent thirteen Years of my Life thinking she loved me, only to find out she was just using me the whole Time.”

_“Ugh, I_ still _wanna rip her hair out for that, even upwards of twenty Years later,”_ he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“Now, imagine how I feel since she was cheating with my best friend from _outside_ Poison all those Years,” Rob dead-panned. “It’s a Wonder that Zoe wasn’t fathered by someone else.”

_“Ain’t that the Truth?”_ his brother laughed. _“I’m still amazed that that DNA test provedja to be_ her _father as much as Zak’s.”_

“Well, DNA damn sure doesn’t lie,” the bassist chuckled, frowning as he heard a knock at the front door. “Sorry, bro, but I gotta go–somebody just knocked on the front door.”

_“At this Time of Night?”_ Don looked as surprised and confused as he felt. _“I wonder who it could be?”_

“Who knows? I’ll find out shortly, though,” he said. “I’ll give ya another call when we both’ve the chance.”

_“Sounds good, lil brother,”_ the ginger agreed. _“Take care of yourself, those kids, and that niece of ours.”_

Laughing as he agreed to do just that, Rob bid his goodbyes and clicked the _End_ button to shut down his Skype call just as his unknown caller knocked again. Not about to take any chances since it was almost Midnight–which was later than he normally stayed up when he wasn’t touring, for sure–he paused long enough to grab his pistol. He wasn’t taking any chances with his kids and niece in the house at this Time of Night since it could be just about anyone, and he Intended to make that pretty clear right from the start.

Hitting the switch for his porch Light before looking out the door, there was no mistaking that somebody was answering any more than there was about the caller being a man. The surprising thing that he noted was that the man’d a suitcase with him, not to mention the same shade of blue eyes as his niece.

“Can I help you?” the bassist queried, making no bones about being armed as he opened the front door.

“My name’s Tuomas,” he answered in heavily-accented English.

“Oh, you be glad that I’m still awake and even remotely feeling sympathetic,” Rob said, stepping back to let him in. “You’d just better hope that your daughter’s feeling the same way.”

“So, she’s told you?” the taller, blue-eyed brunette queried.

“She and I found each other ’cuz I was on an identical search,” he answered as he closed and locked the door. “Turns out that her maternal grandfather’s _my_ father.”

“Ah, I see.” Tuomas nodded as he parked his suitcase next to the partial wall that–alongside one of the columns on either End of it–offered a lil separation from the dining room.

“Might as well have a seat on the couch,” the bassist told him. “’Cuz if ya take my recliner, I might still hurtcha, anywhore.”

His blue eyes widened at the mere Thought, but he simply nodded as he did as he was instructed.

Still making no bones about being armed, Rob headed through the breakfast nook toward the short hallway that housed the bed- and bathroom doors of his niece. As far as he knew, she was still awake and just chilling in her room, which wasn’t that unusual for her once she decided she’d enough _people’ing,_ as she called it. He certainly _hoped_ she was still awake as he knocked on her door, ’cuz he didn’t wanna find out how she’d react to his news, if he woke her up.

Almost before he could lower his hand again, Reagan was cracking her door open just enough to peek out with a cocked brow. From what the bassist could see through said crack, she’d been lounging on her bed, the laptop he’d bought her settled on a hardcover book to keep it from overheating. Praying to any Deity that’d listen to him that she was in a relatively good mood, he still tried to be gentle about breaking the newsta her. Based on what he’d overheard when he first got home the week previous, he wasn’t sure if she’d be receptive to meeting her own dad face-to-face, and he didn’t exactly blame her.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she told him.

“Then c’mon out to the living room,” Rob chuckled, unsurprised by her skepticism. “’Cuz if I’m lying about him sitting on the couch right now–and prolly being scared to Death of me–I’m fuckin’ dying.”

“Hell, I’d be scared of ya, too, if ya answered _my_ knock with a fuckin’ weapon!” the young woman laughed, pointing at his still-visible pistol.

“You’re crazier than I am, if ya think I’ma answer the door without my weapon at nearly Midnight!” he cackled.

“Get outta here so I can cut shit short with Aidan, and I’ll be out there,” Reagan told him, unable to help a grin. “Just be ready to hold me back, if he does or says anything stupid.”

“Fuck, that’s my cue to go get Zak up!” the bassist said. “It’ll take both of us to holdja back, if it comesta _that!”_

Still laughing as she headed back over to her bed and popped one of her ear buds back in, his niece told him that that was prolly a good idea. He well knew how bad her temper could be at Times, if only ’cuz he’d inherited the same hot, Tennessean temper from their shared Ancestor. The difference between them was that he’d more Years at gaining Control over it on her, not to mention he was a Scorpio. Even without those Years of Self-Control under his belt, he took a lil longer to explode than she did since he was a Water sign.

A trip through the kitchen and down the hallway that housed the laundry room saw Rob knocking on his son’s door. He wasn’t surprised that it took him a couple triesta get a response, which was said son groaning as he cracked open said Wooden panel. Zak clearly wasn’t happy about being woken up, but he was quick to _perk_ up once he was told why.

With his reinforcement in tow, the bassist headed back to the living room, where their unexpected visitor was still waiting on the couch. Tuomas’ eyes widened when he saw a younger-looking clone on the heels of the man that’d let him in, which only added to any Fear he was feeling. Both considered that a good thing, though, ’cuz that should mean that he’d know better than to start any trouble.

_“Hyvin, hyvin, hyvin_ – _katso mitä Kissa veti sisään.”_

Rob barely bit back a snicker any more than Zak did when the poor guy whirled around to face the archway that led to the breakfast nook.

_“Voi, kaunis tyttäreni,”_ he breathed, making to push himself up.

“Don’t even try hugging me, or I might just let my uncle shootcha,” Reagan warned him. “Not much of a touchy-feely kinda person, no thanksta my mother–or Birth Bitch, as I tend to call her these Days.”

“One shouldn’t talk about their mother like that,” the Finn gently reprimanded her.

“I know just how important the female role is in continuing pretty much everything in existence,” she said. “I’ma fuckin’ Pagan, after all.”

Tuomas nodded, seeming to approve of his daughter’s Spiritual choices without question.

“But my mother really _is_ a bitch–I’m talking, abused me the majority of my Life, bitch,” the young woman continued. “If there was anyone on the Planet who _shouldn’t_ have had kids, it was her.”

“Wait, _kids?”_ His eyes widened in surprise.

“Younger half-brother,” Reagan told him. “Actually, there’s about as much of an age gap between he and I as between my cousin, Zak–” She gestured to said cousin. “–and his younger sister, Zoe.”

“Zoe’s asleep right now,” Rob said when he looked over at him. “Zak still would be, too, but we both know how Reagan can be sometimes.”

“Hot-tempered, especially when enough of her buttons get pushed, stubborn to the very marrow of her bones…” His son grinned mischievously. “Just like the rest of us she shares blood with, if I’m honest.”

“Doesn’t sound much different from myself,” Tuomas chuckled. “Well, other than she seems a lot more Spirited and outgoing than I am.”

Settling in the seat closest to her uncle, the young woman shrugged as her cousin settled in the seat next to her father. While she was oft an outgoing spit-Fire–courtesy of that Tennessean blood–she’d her moments where she was incredibly shy. After all, she’d made yet another discovery a Year or two before meeting said uncle that explained quite a few things that hadn’t exactly made senseta her.

It turned out that, according to the Traditional Zodiac system most used, she really _was_ a true Libra. That wasta say, her birthday fell closer to right in the middle of the Libra chunk of said Zodiac than it didn’t. Unlike a lotta folks–said father included–her birthday was too closeta the middle of that Time period to say that she was something called a _cusp sign_.

But that wasn’t the only Zodiac system that’d ever been used in the history of mankind–it was just the most common. The next most common was prolly the Chinese Zodiac–as in, the one being referenced when someone was said to be born in the _Year of the Ox,_ the _Year of the Tiger,_ and so on and so forth. After that, she was willing to bet that the most common Zodiac system was the Native American Zodiac, which caught her uncle’s attention. In that one, she was said to be a Raven–which she found fitting, ’cuz she’d always had an uncanny Love of that particular Bird and others easily mistaken as such.

Then there was the Zodiac system Reagan, herself used in her Pagan practices, which sported thirteen signs instead of the Traditional twelve. Instead of being split into twelve even chunks of Time roughly the same length as a month on the calendar, it went by the dates a Constellation was actually a backdrop to the Sun. Virgo was the longest at forty-five Days, Scorpio being the shortest at just a mere _seven_ Days long. But in between Scorpio and Sagittarius came that thirteenth sign–that of Ophiuchus, which was the only other sign to be depicted by a person.

“’Cuz of when my birthday falls, I’m _actually_ a Virgo as much as Zak’s one of those Ophiuchi,” she chuckled.

“Wait, seriously?” Zak queried, even his dad looking surprised.

“Ophiuchus runs from November thirtieth to December seventeenth,” the young woman told him. “So, unless Uncle Rob told me the wrong Birth date for you…”

“Dad might be a _lil_ scatterbrained sometimes, but he’s not stupid,” he chuckled.

“I’d like to _think_ I remember both my brats’ Birth dates,” Rob agreed with a chuckle of his own. “Especially since I almost thought I was gonna miss Zak’s Birth, no thanksta a tour.”

“Hey, you’re the one who decided a romp right before ya headed out for that tour was a good idea!” Reagan laughed.

“I’m _not_ the one who decided to overcook the Turkey by almost two weeks, though,” he retorted.

Tuomas couldn’t help joining their laughter as he watched and listened to their playful banter. Part of him hoped he could build a strong enough relationship with his daughter to be a part of banter like this, but he knew it was gonna take some work. They hadn’t exactly gotten off on the best foot when she’d called him, after all, and it might take Time for her to forgive him for that.

Looking at her father, the young woman distracted him from those Thoughts by saying that the reason she’d gotten into that particular topic was simple. While Libras tended to be more outgoing than not, Virgos tended to be more shy like Capricorns were known for being. The latter of those signs also tended to be pretty dualistic due to being one of the mutable signs, which explained why she could oft flip-flop between two different personalities. Or rather, she didn’t necessarily flip-flop between them–it was more so that different facets of the same personality choseta show themselves.

Nodding since that actually made senseta him, the Finn told her that she’d have to help him figure out if more or less the same thing could be said about himself. He might be another of those who’d grown up thinking he was one Zodiac sign when he was another, but hadn’t ever known it. If nothing else, it’d be a way to start bonding with her, but hopefully not push _too_ many buttons that’d make her hate him for the rest of her Life.

Surprisingly enough, Reagan was more than agreeable to doing that–and not just for him, either. Her only stipulation on the matter was that it wait till sometime tomorrow, ’cuz it was now pushing one in the Morn. Both her cousins usually went to bed early for work, while she and her uncle were normally heading off to bed right about now. If he choseta stay up later, that was fine, as long as he kept it down and didn’t keep anybody else awake with whatever he choseta amuse himself with.

Pushing himself up with a groan, Rob told his niece’s father to follow him up to the bonus room since the couch up there’d a sofa bed he could pull out. He promised he wouldn’t shoot him, nor throw him off the balcony, without being given a damn good reason to. The teasing grin he shot him as he started up the stairs was about the only thing that convinced the younger man to do as he’d been told without fighting the issue. As long as he didn’t push any buttons, which’d ensure that he got to Return home to his own family in Finland, he’d take just about any accommodations right now. If nothing else, he’d get a good Night’s sleep before he started working at getting to know his daughter more.


	13. Thirteen

The next Morn, Rob was already awake and working on coffee when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Normally, he’d have been freaked out by such a thing since he, his niece, and his kids all tended to stay downstairs for the most part. But he quickly remembered that they’d an unexpected visitor he’d put upstairs for the Night, even before he was given a Finnish greeting that was followed by a yawn.

Nodding to the other man, he simply pointed to the coffee pot that lived on the counter next to the double wall ovens. Immediately to the right of that appliance, Reagan’s Keurig sat just beneath the built-in microwave. She’d decided to buy herself one since not only did she tend to like her coffee a lot stronger than he did, but she didn’t drink as much of the stuff.

Tuomas Returned the nod and headed in its Direction, only pausing long enough to inquire about where he kept his coffee mugs. He figured they were prolly in the cabinet directly over his coffee pot, but he didn’t wanna make an ass of himself, if he turned out to be wrong. But as it so happened, he’d actually been right in his assumption, which was something he filed away for Future reference. Since he’d planned on staying at least a week unless told to get lost, he was sure he’d need that information again while he was here.

“So, how long’re ya planning on staying?” the bassist queried once he joined him at the table in the breakfast nook.

“A week, unless I got told to get lost,” he answered. “Well, not exactly a week–I’m supposed to be playing at the _Masters of Rock_ festival in the Czech-Republic on the eighth.”

“Yeah, Reagan said something aboutcha being in a band,” Rob mused. “I just didn’t know if y’all hit the road like mine does, or if y’all were studio-only.”

“Oh, no–we _hit the road,_ as ya say,” the keyboardist chuckled. “Been hitting it for every album since our debut in 1996.”

“Ya baby.” He grinned to let him know he was just teasing him. “I’ve a decade on ya in this industry.”

“What band’re _you_ part of?” Tuomas queried curiously.

“Poison,” the bassist answered. “Our heyday was in the late-eighties, though.”

“Sounds like you’ve quite the dedicated fan-base, if you’re still touring now.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I mean, you’ve been a band for, what–thirty Years now?”

“Thirty-five, as of this Year, if ya go by when _our_ debut record dropped–or was released, however ya wanna phrase it,” Rob corrected him.

“I was pretty close for just guessing!” the keyboardist laughed.

He definitely couldn’t deny that their guest’d a point there, ’cuz he honestly didn’t know shit about this guy. As it turned out, Tuomas hadn’t really been much of a fan of Poison–he’d never really heard of _them_ and more than they’d prolly heard of his own band. Mötley Crüe’d never exactly been one of his favorites, even though his band had once opened for them in Olso, Norway while they were on their _Once Upon a Tour_ in 2004.

The bassist listened as he said that it was actually another band big in the late-eighties that’d even made him choose this career path. During his Time in the US as a foreign exchange student, the teenage son of his host family’d taken him to see Guns n’ Roses. He’d absolutely loved the show he’d seen, and it’d made his choice in career for him, as it were.

Rob chuckled as he sipped his coffee, then set his mug on the table in front of him so he could actually respond. He’d thought GN’R was pretty good right after their debut album dropped in 1987–God knew he commended Slash on finding a band that fit him after his failed audition with Poison. But after they’d fired drummer Steven Adler, he honestly thought that everything about that band had died. Their Sound had never been the same after that, and it only got worse with the firing or quitting of each original member after that.

“I mean, some bands can replace an original member and go on to achieve astronomical Success,” he said. “Mine just wasn’t one of them, and GN’R wasn’t either, in my personal opinion.”

“I honestly don’t think I’ve ever heard their debut album,” Tuomas admitted. “I can’t recall which one it was, but whatever album they were touring when I was here in 1992 and 1993 was where I started.”

“Prolly _Use Your Illusion,”_ the bassist said. “That was a two-disc release in 1991 that they toured for over two Years.”

“Huh.” He looked thoughtful as he pondered that. “You seem to know a lot about them.”

“Well, their heyday was at about the same Time as Poison’s,” Rob told him. “Our debut– _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ –came out in ’86. GN’R’s debut– _Appetite for Destruction_ –came out the following Year, not long after Mötley Crüe’s _Girls, Girls, Girls_ came out, if I recall right.”

_“Appetite_ dropped on July twenty-first, 1987– _Girls_ dropped on May fifteenth.”

Turning to look over their shoulders, they saw Reagan rubbing her eyes as she quite literally stumbled outta her bedroom.

“Go get your coffee, andja can fill us in more,” he chuckled. “’Cuz even though I was around back then, I dunno nearly as much as you do, it seems.”

“’Cuz ya didn’t write your high school senior paper on booze and drugs, and their effects on bands of the eighties,” the young woman snickered.

Tuomas was certainly curious about that as she shuffled across the kitchen to her Keurig, and for a fairly solid reason. As a musician himself, he’d hoped that any children he ever had would show at least a lil musical inclination. Maybe he’d gotten lucky with this one, and she’d turn out to be a helluva musician in her own right, even if she never formed a band of her own.

Once she’d made her coffee the way she liked it, Reagan joined her father and uncle at the table, where she warned them that she was still mostly asleep. That much was proven since said uncle hadn’t seen her do one thing she’d sworn she was gonna _start_ doing, if only so Bret’d lay off. He’d managed to talk her into at least keeping an eye on her sugar, which’d snowballed into actually getting her on the insulin she needed for her diabetes. Luckily, all it took was a gentle reminder to make her get up to grab her glucometer, although she stuck her tongue out at him.

As she settled back in her seat and set up to check her sugar, she told them that she’d grown up on a lotta hair bands, courtesy of her mother. Kat’d graduated high school in ’89, so she’d essentially grown up on a lotta the same bands, herself. It just depended on which band they were talking about, ’cuz ones like Mötley Crüe and Quiet Riot’d been out at about the Time she’d hit puberty, while ones like Poison and GN’R hadn’t come out till her high school Years.

Regardless of exactly why she’d started listening to any given band, though, the young woman turned out to be a walking trivia box when it came to Music. In most cases, she could recall the exact date an album was credited as being publicly released–like with GN’R’s debut, and Mötley’s fourth album. Other cases turned out not to be quite as stuck in her memory, ’cuz she could only remember the Year a specific album dropped–or maybe the month _and_ Year, but that was it. However, she could pretty much remember the order of albums by her favorite bands, even if she couldn’t remember all the other details.

“And don’t even get me started on song lyrics,” Reagan chuckled, wincing as she pricked her finger. “Sometimes, I’ll have random lyrics pop into mind and be asking myself where the fuck I’ve heard that song before.”

“Really?” the keyboardist queried, his expression a mixture of surprise and Curiosity.

“Last Night, I was hearing one I grew up on in my head,” she answered, nodding. “When I said the lyrics aloud, Uncle Rob’s like, _’Cuz that’s_ Get the Funk Out _by Extreme.”_

Tuomas turned a confused look on his fellow musician, who laughed.

“Another band that was pretty popular around the Time Poison came out as more than a club band,” the bassist told him. _“Get the Funk Out_ and _More than Words_ were two of their biggest hits.”

“I might have to look them up,” he mused. “I’m not as familiar with American Music as I am Finnish.”

“Hey, it makes sense.” His daughter grinned as she finished up what she was doing, then roseta grab her insulin outta the fridge. “I’m not familiar with Finnish Music beyond your band, so we’re even.”

“Makes me wonder if you’ve heard of any we tour with,” the keyboardist said.

“Eh, I’ve heard that y’all tour with one called Sonata Arctica a lot, but I’ve never checked ’em out,” she admitted. “I only started listening to y’all ’cuz I was listening to my Evanescence channel on Slacker one Day, and it went off the rails on me.”

“Evanescence?” Tuomas queried.

“Ever heard the song _Bring Me to Life?”_ the young woman countered.

“Can’t say that I have off the top of my head,” he answered, shaking his head.

_“How can you see into my eyes, like open doors? Leading you down into my core, where I’ve become so numb…”_ Reagan sang, making his eyes widen with the Beauty of her voice. _“Without a Soul, my Spirit’s sleeping somewhere cold until you find it there and lead…it…back…home…”_

_“Wake me up…”_ Rob sang, surprising their guest with his own Knowledge on this song.

_“Wake me up inside!”_

_“I can’t wake up!”_

_“Wake me up inside!”_

_“Save me!”_

_“Call my name, and save me from the Dark!”_

_“Wake me up!”_

_“Bid my blood to run_ – _”_

_“I can’t wake up!”_

_“_ – _before I come undone…”_

_“Save me!”_

_“Save me from the nothing I’ve become!”_

Tuomas’ eyes remained wide with surprise as uncle and niece both paused, although the young woman was the one to continue after a few short seconds.

_“Now that I know what I’m without, you can’t just leave me… Breathe into me, and make me real_ – _bring…me…to Life…”_

Rob couldn’t help a grin as they belted out their respective parts of the chorus again, ’cuz he knew she’d a killer voice. In fact, it was ’cuz of her getting him to sing songs like this one with her when they were hear at home that he’d started hearing his own in a new way. Gone was the Self-consciousness he’d battled ever since he was a teenager over whether he sounded too nasally or not. In its place was a newfound sense of Pride since–like herself–he could do things with his voice that even Bret couldn’t hope to, and he’d a wider range than he originally thought.

_“Bring me to Life…”_

_“I’ve been livin’ a lie_ – _there’s nothing inside…”_

_“Bring me to Life… Frozen inside, without your touch, without your Love_ – _darling, only you are the Life among the Dead!”_

The keyboardist was surprised when she threw back her head to get out the ridiculously high, long note she was shooting for.

_“All this Time, I can’t believe I couldn’t see_ – _kept in the Dark, but you were there in front of me!”_ his fellow musician sang.

_“I’ve been sleeping a thousand Years, it seems_ – _got to open my eyes to everything!”_ Reagan immediately followed.

_“Without a Thought, without a voice, without a Soul… Don’t let me die here_ – _there must be something more!”_

_“Bring me to Liiiife!”_

Both decided to End there, rather than repeating the chorus again like the studio version of the song did. Still, the young woman was pretty sure she’d gotten her point across as she started drawing up her insulin so it was ready once her food was. After all, there were already two Nightwish songs coming to mind that were pretty similar in their own ways.

“I was wondering if you’d turned out to be any kinda musician,” her father chuckled. “Now, I’ve my answer without even having to ask.”

“Been a vocalist ever since I was twelve,” she told him. “Actually, Evanescence and their song _Call Me When You’re Sober_ is what got me started on that.”

“So, you’ve been a fan of theirs for a long Time,” the keyboardist mused.

“Since I was in middle school and one of the high schoolers that rode my bus lemme listen to the song we were just singing.” Reagan nodded as she gestured between herself and her uncle.

“Sounds like Kat prolly wouldn’t have been a fan of ya listening to them,” said uncle mused.

“Fuck no,” she spat. “Other than the bands that were out in the eighties, the bitch damn near doesn’t know good Music when it stabs her in the eardrums.”

Getting their conversation back on track while she was cooking, the young woman said that she picked that particular Evanescence song on purpose. Looking over at her uncle between cracking Eggs, she told him that he prolly wouldn’t know the songs she was about to name, but Tuomas certainly would. Naturally, that caught said brunette’s attention, making him wonder just what she was getting at with that.

Reagan said that the first Nightwish song that came to mind for a comparison was called _Bye-Bye, Beautiful_. It was from their sixth studio album that was released in 2007, before she even discovered them, which was called _Dark Passion Play_. Like Evanescence’s _Bring Me to Life,_ it was a male-female duet between Nightwish’s second leading lady and their longtime bassist. Said bassist did all the male vocals after joining in 2001 following the release of their third album, _Wishmaster,_ in 2000. But it was the second Nightwish song that came to mind– _Cadence of Her Last Breath_ –also from _Dark Passion Play,_ that she thought was even more similar.

“I mean, unless I’m interpreting the meaning of the lyrics wrong, _Cadence_ is basically about a girl Wishing for Death,” the young woman said.

“Well, not necessarily a woman, _per sé_ –it could be either gender,” Tuomas corrected her.

“Whatever–ya get my point,” she told him. _“Bring Me to Life_ is basically saying, _I feel dead inside_ – _somebody help me outta this Dark place!”_

“It’s just that in one song, the person’s wanting out in a positive way, while in the other, they’re choosing the Darker Path,” Rob mused.

“My point exactly.” Reagan nodded as she plated breakfast for all three of them and turned the stove off. “Still not quite awake enough to make a better comparison between _Bring Me to Life_ and _Bye-Bye, Beautiful_ other than the male-female duet part, though.”

“I think I get what you mean, though,” the keyboardist chuckled.

“I’ll letcha listen to the entirety of _Fallen_ –the album _Bring Me to Life_ is on–at some point while you’re here,” she told him, thumping their plates down. “The whole thing’s basically a cesspool of hopeful Darkness and falling down the Rabbit hole, so to speak, like _Dark Passion Play_ is.”

Nodding, he admitted that that sounded good to him since he’d need ways of amusing himself for nearly a week when they weren’t getting to know each other, or he couldn’t sleep. Another album he was curious about was the one that’d gotten this whole conversation started since he’d never heard _Appetite_ before, as far as he was aware.

The bassist laughed as he reached over to clap her back when she choked on the Eggs she’d been chewing in reaction to him saying that. He knew damn good and well that was about to irk the Banshee that lived in the back of her head. She essentially thought it was a sin not to know classics like _Welcome to the Jungle, Paradise City, Sweet Child o’ Mine,_ and _It’s So Easy,_ if one was even the slightest GN’R fan. Course the same could be said about some of Poison’s and Mötley Crüe’s biggest hits, if one was a fan of either of those bands, too.

Reagan shook her head as she sipped her coffee again, simply unable to comprehend how one could call themselves a GN’R fan without knowing those four songs and a handful of others. It was utter blasphemy in her mind to do such a thing, and she knew she was gonna have to school her father, big-Time. Still, she knew she didn’t have a lotta Time to do that in before he’d to leave again, especially since she already knew he was technically on tour.

However, the good thing was that Tuomas’ last tour date for nearly two months was in Oulu, Finland on July thirtieth. After that, he’d play a few dates across Russia and Eastern Europe before doing whatever till the North American leg of his tour kicked off on October first. The good thing there was that he’d a Day off on her birthday, and although it’d be quite a squeeze, he could damn well manage to drop by for a bit, if he really wanted to. He’d three Days between a date in Mexico City and the next in Buenos Aires, after all, so they’d just have to see how that part worked out. Otherwise, he could always come back for a longer, late-birthday visit since his last posted tour date was on October twenty-fourth.

With a quick look across the table at Rob, he was already hard at work rearranging things in his head to figure out how he could manage both. Said bassist simply shrugged and told him that as long as he didn’t do anything stupid and he wasn’t fighting with his niece, he was welcome in his house. He just warned him not to bring a fuck-ton of family that he wasn’t willing to share a bed with unless they were willing to sleep on the floor. That much was agreeable, considering that he’d limited Space for guests, and nobody wanted to relegate extended family to nearby hotels for Days on End.

It seemed that all of them–especially father and daughter–were getting along better than anyone coulda hoped for, and they prayed it stayed that way.


	14. Fourteen

Over the course of the next month, Reagan kept in touch with her father whenever he’d a free minute or five. It was a bit hard for her to cope with since she’d only _just_ met him, but her uncle having ten Years on him in the same industry helped with that. All it took was a few of the funnier tales and horror stories of his own tours for her to get a better idea of what her father and _his_ band mates went through on the road. Well, their experiences might be worse in some ways, the first and most notable being how thick their accents undoubtedly were.

But on the Morn of her birthday in mid-October, a knock at the front door caught Rob by surprise. Since he always got up earlier than his niece, even if they went to bed at roughly the same Time, he’d been nursing his coffee in the breakfast nook when he heard that Sound. However, they weren’t expecting his own band till later that afternoon, and they hadn’t heard anything from her father about whether he’d get to pay a visit today or not.

Shaking his head as he chuckled under his breath when he looked out his front door, the bassist wasn’t surprised to see Tuomas waiting patiently. However, he _was_ surprised to see that he’d a small group with him, but he suspected he knew why without asking. If he was supposed to be on tour, it wouldn’t be surprising to find out that his band mates’d come with him. No doubt he’d told them about his long-lost daughter, which’d Naturally make them curious and wanna meet her for themselves. And even if that _wasn’t_ the case, he’d be willing to bet they’d wanna Wish her a happy birthday in person, rather than over the phone or something similar.

“Morn,” Rob chuckled as he let them in.

“Morn, Rob,” the keyboardist responded. “Sorry about the tag-alongs–like my wife, they started thinking I was cheating and wanna meet Reagan for themselves.”

“I kinda figured that was the case, although for a different reason,” he laughed as the group trailed him into the living room.

“The giant of a blonde’s my bassist, Marco,” Tuomas told him.

“I think ya mean _Viking,_ but _giant_ works, too,” the Silver Fox retorted with a grin as he shook said blonde’s hand.

“The blonde who comes up next is Troy,” he continued.

“A pleasure,” Troy said as he took his turn, revealing a completely different accent.

“Oh, boy–Reagan’s gonna have fun with you,” Rob chuckled. “I’ve never heard anyone mimic an accent closer to yours than not without being from the same area–till _she_ did it.”

“You’re shitting me!” he laughed.

“If I’ve to guess, I’d say Scotland or Northern England,” the Silver Fox said thoughtfully.

“I’m English, through and through,” Troy told him, grinning.

“Sounds almost like the Scotch accent my niece can impersonate when she feels like it,” he chuckled. “All right, who’s next?”

“This’d be the band’s third _leading lady,_ as Reagan calls them,” Tuomas said. “Don’t let the spelling of her name fool you, ’cuz it’s pronounced _fleur,_ not _floor.”_

“I’m really gonna be Wishing I spoke more than English and a lil Spanish by the End of today,” the Silver Fox chuckled.

“Next up is our second drummer, Kai,” he told him. “Our original drummer, Jukka, is handling more of the _behind-the-scenes_ stuff back in Finland.”

“I know that feeling,” Rob said as he shook his hand, too. “I’m the bassist of my band, but I’m also a backing vocalist, co-songwriter, and a businessman behind the scenes, too.”

“And finally, the _Hobbit,_ as we usually call him,” the keyboardist concluded. “Call him Erno instead of Emppu, and watch how quick he uses his size to his advantage to rip your nuts off.”

“It’s always the short ones that’re the wily ones!” the Silver Fox laughed, moving to shake even Emppu’s hand.

Said midget of a blonde cocked a brow at him as he then gestured to the living room so they could find seats wherever possible. His grin never slipped as he assured him that he wasn’t trying to make fun of him, but rather a comparison. After all, he was pretty sure that he was actually the exact same height as his niece, and one of his own band mates was but a few inches taller than them. CC and said niece were some of the wiliest folks he’d ever met in his Life, and they were definitely some of the shortest.

All but dragging him into the kitchen, the Silver Fox suggested that Tuomas get his daughter’s coffee started. He knew that if anyone else woke her up, there’d be hell to pay for it, but coffee’d somewhat curb her non-Morn person attitude. Letting him take care of that part’d no doubt make him feel helpful, not to mention earn him brownie points with his daughter.

The keyboardist nodded his agreement since he knew how said daughter liked her coffee, turning toward the cabinet that housed the coffee mugs. As her uncle headed into her bedroom to wake her up, he pulled down the one he knew was her favorite as started diligently measuring. He knew for a fact that she liked her coffee sweet, despite being diabetic, and wouldn’t take anything he made her any other way. Besides, she was close enough to being a true Finn in how strong and Dark she liked her coffee for his liking. Well, when one _didn’t_ count the creamer she always added to her mug once it’d finished brewing, that is.

Grumbling sleepily as she shuffled outta her room, Reagan paused only long enough to sniff curiously before making a beeline toward her Keurig. Her father laughed as she Bear-hugged him before eagerly taking the mug he held out to her like a weird sorta shield. She seemed to purr like a Cat as she raised the mug for her first sip, only pausing before taking another when her uncle gave her his typical gentle reminder.

“Girl, it’s been months since ya agreed to at least start keeping an eye on your sugar,” Rob chuckled. “You’d think you’d remember to check it before even the first sip of coffee by now.”

“Toldja I didn’t really care about that kinda shit,” the young woman retorted with a sleepy grin. “Ol’ Grimmie’s gonna get me one way or another eventually.”

“She’s diabetic,” her father said, facing the pass-through over the kitchen sink, which made her peek into the living room.

“I didn’t think that ran in your family, though,” the blonde she recognized as Emppu mused.

“It doesn’t, but apparently, it runs on her mother’s side,” Tuomas corrected him with a chuckle.

“Good thing’s that I’m well-versed in dealing with it,” the Silver Fox told them. “One of my band mates was diagnosed with Type I diabetes when he was a kid, so he’s had it a bit worse than my niece for a lot longer.”

“Well, all that aside,” Reagan said as she pricked her finger. “I’m guessing your band was just a lil too curious for their own good?”

“Something like that,” the keyboardist chuckled. “Much like my wife, they started thinking I was cheating after that extended visit in August.”

“Ha! Good Luck leaving here with your dick still attached, if ya pull it out for anything but taking a piss around me!” she laughed.

The group in the living room erupted into raucous laughter of their own as he cupped himself protectively.

“I mean, yeah–you and Uncle Rob both’re attractive guys, but jeez!” The young woman shivered in disgust. “This ain’t West-by God-Virginia, damn it!”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?” Marco queried from where he’d settled in the seat closest to her uncle’s recliner.

“That West Virginia–and just those that live _anywhere_ in the Appalachian Mountains, in general–have a bad habit of committing incest,” Reagan explained. “Complimenting the guys I’m related to is one thing–actually fuckin’ ’em is a totally different story.”

Grabbing her insulin so she could draw up her Morn dose, she said that the only way the cock of any relative’d come near her aside from just taking a piss was if they tried to rape her. Problem with such a scenario was that–as a former rape victim who’d no desire to go through that again–she was gonna fight back like a World-class boxer. Being of Tennessean blood that was already prone to fighting dirty was just gonna make it that much worse for whoever wound up on the receiving End of her panic attack.

Even the man who equaled her in height could tell that this young woman meant business, and that even her father wasn’t gonna get away with certain things. Whether he wanted to or not, this young woman wasn’t gonna let him do anything that could be considered unsavory with her, and it clearly didn’t matter if he was married or not.

Tuomas reached into his pocket to grab his phone as the trio joined the rest of the group in the living room moments later. A frown marred his features for a moment as he took a look at the screen, then immediately Silenced the device by rejecting the call. Before it could start ringing again, he’d unlocked it and turned off the ringer entirely, the locked it again and stuck it back in his pocket.

“My wife,” he chuckled when his daughter shot him a curious look. “The last Time we spoke, we got into a fight, and I’m not exactly in the mood to talk to her right now.”

“Lemme guess–being a jealous lil diva?” Reagan queried curiously.

“That’s one way to put it,” the keyboardist answered, nodding. “I’d trade out the word _diva_ for the word _bitch,_ though.”

“Hey, you’re the one who knows her!” she laughed. “I’m trying to play nice by refraining from such name-calling toward somebody I dunno, here!”

“Oh, really?” Marco chuckled.

“She’s no qualms about calling it like she sees is,” her uncle laughed from his recliner. “If she thinks somebody’s a bitch, she’s gonna call them that–that even goes for her own mother.”

“Trust me, she deserves it,” the young woman said when the other mens’ jaws dropped. “I know the importance of the female role in the continuation of all–I’ma Pagan, after all. But like I told Dad when I met him, she’s a bitch up one side and down the other.”

“I’m not even sure I wanna ask,” Emppu admitted.

“The long and short of it, she abused me in pretty much every way under the Sun till I met Uncle Rob and moved down here to Florida,” Reagan explained. “I even count forcing me on Birth Control when I didn’t wanna be and wasn’t even thinking of sex as a form of sexual abuse, but not everybody would.”

Tuomas looked like he was ready to go on the Warpath when he heard that, if only ’cuz she hadn’t shared even that much of her childhood with him since they’d met. Now, there was a part of him that felt even worse about how he’d first reacted to her telling him about their shared blood and how she’d found out about it. She’d been through so much–too much for a woman who wasn’t even thirty yet–and it hurt to know that she’d suffered so at the hands of her mother.

Clearly seeing that things were gonna go South with a quickness if an intervention wasn’t made, the Viking of a bassist was the one to Change the subject. His grin was infectious as he levered himself up outta his seat and pulled her to her feet, his arms wrapping around her in a Bear-hug as he shouted a phrase that the other Finns quickly echoed.

Rob couldn’t help a laugh at his niece’s uncomfortable look, figuring that they’d all just Wished her a happy birthday in Finnish. He wasn’t entirely sure that the other band knew she actually spoke a decent amount of Finnish, or if they’d just fallen back on their mother tongue outta habit. Sure enough, the lone brunette Funn confirmed his assumption about what they’d said as he gently pried his band mate off his daughter. It was then that he gently reprimanded him in Finnish, apparently telling him that she wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely kinda person and rarely let folks get away with such liberties.

Laughing as she actually moved to pass out hugs, Reagan corrected him by saying that it was only when she didn’t really know a person that she reacted like that. She was willing to make an exception today since it was her birthday, and she’d figured that there were gonna be a lotta those liberties taken. But now that they’d been warned, they were given the stern warning not to repeat that mistake in the Future, ’cuz she wasn’t holding herself responsible for any injuries they incurred, if they did.

“Duly noted,” Kai chuckled, glancing at the door as he saw the outer screen door open from his vantage point. “Uh, were there supposed to be other guests today?”

“My band,” the Silver Fox answered.

“Um, I’d like to think your band mates aren’t female,” he said, nodding toward the front door.

“What the–” Rob started, only to get cut off by a sudden furious pounding and irate shrieking.

“Gods damn it!” the keyboardist groaned. “Lemme deal with this, and I’ll let everyone back me up, if I need it.”

“Ya know who it is, then?” he queried, pushing himself up.

“My wife,” Tuomas grumbled. “I told you, she thinks I’m cheating, so no doubt she decided to track me down when I got on a flight that _wasn’t_ bound for Buenos Aires.”

“Most women’re like that, unfortunately,” the Silver Fox sighed, letting him open the door.

_“Mitä vittua,_ Johanna?” he snapped after yanking open the door.

The blue-eyed ginger that was revealed momentarily looked taken aback, then erupted on her husband by slapping his chest repeatedly.

_“Jos et lopeta lyömällä minua, olen valjastamiseen eräs Banshee päällä sinä,”_ Tuomas warned her, making absolutely no move to defend himself.

_“Ja että Banshee jo ajattelee olet kulkuri!”_ Reagan growled, yanking her father backward a couple steps.

Rob snickered as he simply stood back, not about to come between his niece and her target, now that she was on the Warpath. As he’d said earlier when Nightwish first arrived, some of the wiliest folks he’d ever met were also some of the shortest. He knew damn good and well that combined with her Tennessean blood, it wasn’t a good idea to try stopping her unless she was about to kill the other woman.

Marco spoke under his breath after moving close enough to be heard clearly, easily translating everything both women said. The Silver Fox wasn’t surprised to find out that she was calling her stepmother a tramp, among many other colorful names. He hadn’t been kidding when he said she called things as she saw them, as long as such name-calling was warranted.

Tuomas’d told them about how his wife was nearly a decade younger than himself, which seemed to be a theme amongst celebrity couples. Another theme was that while she was in the same industry and decently popular in her own right, she didn’t have as far-reaching of fame as he did. He’d suspected that part of her reason for wanting to be with him was that fame, not to mention the fact that he was a Music producer in addition to being a musician and songwriter. Looking back on it, he still wasn’t sure why he’d allowed himself to be bamboozled into marriage, but that was something to be figured out at a later date.

In the here and now, it was pretty obvious that Reagan’d formed her own opinion of the ginger, whom he’d addressed as _Johanna_. Since she was railing in Finnish as she shoved her outta the house, only the Finns’d any idea what she was saying to her. But one thing was pretty clear–she didn’t like her stepmother, for whatever reason, and she was pissed about her showing up here. To be quite honest, she didn’t even seem to notice when the rest of Poison warily stepped outta their rental as she stalked her stepmother toward the End of the driveway.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell’d we just walk into?” Bret queried once they were able to make it up to the front door.

“A Banshee getting unleashed on a tramp, from what Marco’s told me in his translations,” he chuckled, gesturing to the tallest blonde outta the entire group.

“Damn, now I feel even tinier than I normally do!” CC laughed as he looked up at the Viking of a bassist.

“You’re not the shortest, believe it or not,” he told him with a grin. “We call Emppu the _Hobbit_ for a reason.”

The pair of guitarists looked at each other, one bursting into laughter as the other shot his band mate a dirty look.

“Hey, if it makes ya feel any better, I know how it feelsta be surrounded by giants,” CC told him. “I’ve been surrounded by them for upwards of thirty Years!”

“Right around twenty-five for me,” the shortest blonde of the group finally chuckled.

“So, what exactly is going on here?” Rikki queried once introductions were passed around.

“My wife, Johanna, got it in her head that I’ve been cheating on her,” Tuomas explained. “Apparently, she followed me here when I decided to make a pit stop on my Days off instead of going straight to Buenos Aires since I knew it was my daughter’s birthday today.”

Three more sets of blue eyes widened when he said that.

“Yeah, DNA test proved he’s really Reagan’s daddy,” Rob chuckled. “And she’s apparently formed a rather nasty opinion about her stepmother that–after watching her hit her father repeatedly–set off that Tennessean wildfire temper of hers.”

His own midget guitarist shivered as they watched her retaliate with a serious uppercut when her stepmother’d the audacity to slap her. While they’d all seen her shoot some nasty looks at her Uncle Jason that Summer, and the Silver Fox’d watched her get pissed at him without completely losing her shit, this was a totally different ballgame. Clearly, she wasn’t about to let this ginger lay hands on herself or anyone she held dear without getting what she deserved.

Once Johanna’d been driven off the property on a warning that she’d get even worse, if she turned up here again, the young woman Returned to the house. Even as the group followed her back inside, she told them to just give her a few minutes alone. Now that her temper’d been ignited, she needed to cool off, of she’d wind up unleashing on someone else like that.

As Reagan headed to her bedroom, her uncle got everybody else settled in the living room so they weren’t piled up like a litter of puppies. He’d a feeling she was gonna head out to a spot she’d dubbed her _Sacred Circle,_ which was hidden in a stand of Palm Trees that pretty much ringed the back edge of his back yard. She didn’t really like folks knowing where that special spot of hers was, ’cuz she didn’t like having to Smudge it all the Time when others invaded. It was for that reason that he made sure everyone else was distracted and wouldn’t see her slip out through the exterior door that opened into her bedroom.

Not long afterward, the young woman Returned to the house, letting those who didn’t know where she’d gone think she’d just hidden in her bedroom for a few minutes. But her uncle could tell the difference already, simply smirking at her as he realized she’d definitely headed outside to Ground and Center herself. He’d seen her when she was worked up compared to immediately after such a session several Times, so he knew the signsta look for. Luckily, everybody else seemed clueless, which seemed to be her Intent, so he kept his mouth shut.

With all those she’d wanted to invite now here, her cousins on their way home from work, it was Time to start getting the party underway. Bret, Rikki, and CC’d all gotten her small trinkets or things she could useta decorate her bedroom a lil more, but still tied into her being Pagan. Well, that wasn’t including her own vinyl copies of their records–even _Native Tongue_ and _Crack a Smile,_ which they’d commissioned especially for her. Unfortunately, the only Nightwish member to have a small present for her was her father, which made sense. He hadn’t told the rest of his band when her birthday was till he got ready to leave their last tour stop, so they hadn’t had Time to get her anything.

Reagan was quick to wave off their apologies on the grounds that she usually wasn’t very materialistic. However, she told them that if they really wanted to add to her present pile, they could always send such things with Tuomas on his next visit. They were quick to agree to that, all of them glad to now have an uneventful celebration for it being a small birthday party.


End file.
